What We Were, What We Want to Be
by HayashiOkami
Summary: Gii, Takumi, and their friends were prepared for the coming year, but they couldn't have anticipated the severity of it. Nor could they have suspected that Takumi's parents wanted a place in their son's heart they had never earned to begin with.
1. Words of the Wise

_**What We Were, What We Want to Be**_

"_The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched- they must be felt with the heart._" Helen Keller

The war Akaike spoke of has started, and it is a war with no boundaries- physical or psychological. Gii and Takumi are confident they can keep their relationship intact with an undeniable love for each other and trustworthy friends by their side. But while their relationship may survive, fractures in it are another matter entirely.

Oshiro Souta is an orphan whose only passion is dance. When a talent agency makes his name known, his forgotten, wealthy relatives in Japan appear to claim the boy. Starting a different life away from the only security he's ever known, Souta begins to discover a world where status is what matters, manipulation is commonplace, and true friendship is incredibly hard to find.

Why do we as people ignore the injustices around us? Are we too afraid to step away from what is expected of us or that we, too might become victims? Or is it a simple matter of staying out of other peoples' business, because that is the easy way out? Though it may contradict our values, still we spread hateful words and leave as guilty as those who started it. Then, why do some people help others and care no matter the consequences, no matter if it is for a stranger?

What is the true meaning of power, of love, and of friendship? More importantly, what does it take to break and make all three?

After watching the Takumi-kun Series, although much of the story was cliché, the entire thing just touched me. Lulu-Print's story _Tsuki no Namida_ inspired this one, although I have no intention of following the path her wonderfully suspenseful plot is heading, even if the premise seems to have its similarities. The character Oshiro Souta is supposed to be a device by which we obtain insight on the other side of the story at the same time of Gii and Takumi's struggles, to explore some of the questions proposed above. Though he may have his own background, after this chapter his story does not overide our two main protagonists too much until later on. This was just a set-up, and in the next few chapters the focus will once again be Takumi and Gii, if that worries anyone.

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><p><em><strong>Chapter One, <strong>Words of the Wise Are from the Devil's Mouth_

Takumi and Gii remained curled against each other in the concert hall for as long as they could risk it, cherishing the moment of peace in a world all their own, with the knowledge that it couldn't last. Soon this important place would be demolished and along with it the tranquility between them, the quiet reassurance found in each others' arms. Love was another matter, one not so easily destroyed but simple to fracture because of its invisibility. Takumi shivered at the painful memories of the past weeks, but they felt distant now. In his lover's arms, they were not so sharp or hurtful.

Gii dragged a languid hand through Takumi's hair, perhaps a reassurance on his part. The solid warmth of another body beside him kept him grounded, reminded him that this was as real as the first time. Takumi's eyes fluttered open and crossed over his lover and the beautiful, oaken hall now doused in the night's darkness. A weak film of moonlight shone through the windows, over their bodies and the benches behind them. It was a reminder.

While the concert hall and the surrounding area were desolate, people had to have noticed their absence, Gii's especially. His breathless search for Takumi surely hadn't gone unnoticed by the school's population. People would talk, rumors would surface, but while those were unavoidable and unable to be prevented, Takumi and Gii could lessen the damage. They didn't need to give the freshmen anymore material to aid those rumors. They didn't need a worse, perverse reputation than the one they were certain to receive.

Or more accurately, a reputation that _Takumi_ would receive. If the freshman talked about Gii, they wouldn't allow him to hear under any circumstances. Takumi was the one they would _want_ to hear their spiteful words, no matter if their opinion on their beloved sempai changed. It was a battle Takumi still didn't quite understand, even as he stood in the crossfire. And he _wanted_ to understand, to do more than rely upon others and be in the center of it all in ignorance. In whatever way possible, however small, he wanted to give his support.

He couldn't help but think he might be a burden otherwise. What Akaike had spoken about was the truth, a truth that wasn't about to disappear as Gii's cold demeanor had done. An anxious chill swept through his body. The freshmen were bold and judgmental with the stubborn constitution of spoiled children; he had already seen examples of their cruelty. Reasonably, as students their bullying should only reach so far, nothing unmanageable, except they had money and money was power.

Gii must have taken his shiver as a sign of being physically cold. Wrapping him in a loose embrace, he brought Takumi into a sitting position and began to slip his clothes on. Though it was a fair spring night, the air held a slight chill. The heated atmosphere between the two boys had dissipated awhile ago. Takumi breathed a silent sigh and fumbled with the buttons to his shirt. Gii's hands grasped his and continued at a steadier pace.

The very faint, reassuring smile on his lips set aside Takumi's concerns for the moment. For once moving first, Takumi leaned over and gave him a quick kiss before finding his discarded jacket. Tomorrow he could worry all he wanted; gather as much courage as he needed. Tonight he could rest and be assured that Gii, in the floors above his room, reciprocated his feelings.

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><p>When he first heard from his roommate about the relations between the seniors, Souta hadn't understood why that was such a huge commotion. To be accurate, what he didn't understand was why everyone disapproved of the boy Saki was with, and not the fact that he was with a boy at all. For his part he tried to keep his mouth obediently shut as the other sempai requested of them. Of course, later he understood full well why people like Nakazoto and Tsumori scorned Hayama.<p>

Something inside whispered that he should have just stayed obedient as always, away from other peoples' business where it did not concern him. Pretending that he belonged did not make that desire reality, nor did it respect his sempai and do any wonders for his conscious. Because as he passed by the tight-knit group of seniors while muttering the echoes of Tsumori's words, he caught a glimpse of the hurt expression Hayama tried to suppress. And Souta remembered a time in the not so distant past when he had done the same.

"Hey, I'll let you borrow my notes for history," said Souta's roommate Soreshi Michihiro. Souta hesitated, suspicious that such considerate words were coming from Soreshi's mouth. He would have appreciated the gesture, but those people with his roommate's background often paid half their attention to class and the other half on trivial matters. Those matters included various comments about their sempai, and plans Souta would rather not associate himself with.

"I don't need your notes; aren't you always using mine anyways? Why, what do you want?" Alternative motives were all that seemed to encompass their thoughts, Souta ventured to assume. Tapping his pen against a choreography textbook, he folded his homework away knowing that Soreshi hated half-attentive conversations. The first week had taught him that valuable lesson.

Soreshi paused for a moment, maybe believing that he was building suspense, before he offered Souta a smile too bright to be real. Such expressions annoyed him and made his patience run thin. The other boy dropped the grin in an instant as he crossed the room with a few strides until they were mere inches from each other. The proximity unnerved Souta, but he knew better than to back down or do anything more than blink. Weakness was not a desirable trait in these dorms.

"Say, you're allowed to use the studios at night, aren't you? Since you're favored by the dance team after all," Soreshi said in that manner of his that strongly resembled a thief who had hidden his cache so well he had nothing to fear from the authorities. Souta answered with a terse nod, reconsidering the night he told his roommate about his hobbies. At that time he hadn't known about the devious personality beneath the pleasant mask Soreshi and the others showed the public. It had been weeks since he did any serious talking to anyone, so he might have gotten carried away when he realized Soreshi knew more about him than he had thought.

But he hadn't considered that his fondness for dance might make trouble for anyone but himself. Counselors and parents alike had scolded him since he took a shine to the sport, each speaking the hard truth that _dancing_ was not a career but a child's hobby. By the time these words reached him, Souta had already been too immersed in that world to stop and return to normal. Anything adults told him had almost always been wrong or disappointing in some way, so he reasoned until now that he had made the right choice. Maybe he hadn't.

"Listen, it's inexcusable that we don't use every resource available in our…endeavors. I know you have some misgivings, but Hayama-sempai or anyone else isn't going to get hurt. We just want you to compromise with him-" Souta stood with a sharp, negative response and forced Soreshi to take a few steps backwards if he didn't want to fall over.

"I don't understand the Japanese you speak," he said stiffly, throwing out the wildcard excuse he must have used fifty times in the past year. True, sometimes what others said to him might as well have been Greek, but Japanese _had_ been his first tongue and was not so easily forgotten. Whatever vocabulary and grammar his mind misplaced had been recovered already, not that people like Soreshi needed to know that. The frustration on his face was worth playing ignorant.

"Talk to Hayama-sempai in one of the studios, that's all I'm saying. Do I need to say it slower for you to understand?" The boys reached an impasse, the silence between filled with distaste. Neither held any love or fondness for the other; they just barely managed to survive the days without fighting or arguing around every corner. Souta knew it would have been easier to befriend them, to make some allies in a place so foreign he could no longer consider it home, but that hadn't crossed his mind when he made them enemies.

What he remembered were the sneers and hurtful jibes, though they may have been spoken in another language directed at him for a whole different reason. That was not to say that he disregarded Soreshi and his companions, which would have been an almost suicidal move. Instead he played their puppet when they wanted him to and melded back into the shadows when their backs were turned. There was no reason for him to get hurt for a person he knew nothing about.

"Whatever. I'm going to practice. If I'm not back by ten, don't come looking for me." Curfew ended much earlier than that, both boys knew. The captain of the team, Akiyama, _had_ allowed Souta access to the rooms later than most, if only because he was a freshman and the studios were reserved for the more advanced students. Whatever the agency saw in him the captain also picked up on, and he intended to make full use of that talent.

Souta gathered his bag and tossed it over his shoulder, unobtrusive as he always was as he departed. The rooms might be opened for his use, but he hadn't taken advantage of the opportunity as much as he liked. The studios were lonely, haunting even, without any other life inside them. While Souta admitted his one weakness in dance was his inability to synchronize with others that did not mean he hated human company. It just meant that the captain had to regulate him to a backup dancer more often than not.

The issue didn't bother Souta as much as it bothered Akiyama. The senior complained that it wasted his talent, that he should learn how to trust his teammates before he practiced anything else. It never used to be like that in his old school. Souta hadn't thought any better of his abilities than everyone around him did. All he wanted was to perform for people, not necessarily as the best, but always alone. It never ceased to amaze him how people could synchronize their movements, as if they each shared a heart and mind.

Souta had never actually belonged wherever he went, maybe that was his problem. As he twisted and moved with the music across the studio floor, he mused about how impossible it seemed for him to advance any further in life- not in schoolwork, not in dance, and not in friendships. Dance was his passion, but he had so rarely shared it with anyone besides himself, believing that no one would care for it as he did. Maybe _that_ was his fault, why he could only practice in the late hours of the night with confidence.

All of these musings were sentiments his mind mulled over but never intended to speak aloud. Alone in the studio or in a bedroom, Souta could forget his faults- forget that he should try harder in school, that he needed to practice with people rather than the mirrors, and that he shouldn't spread the same rumors that had once hurt him. He had time to instead remember the friends he left behind, the freedom that once he took for granted.

He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the studio's aching door open over the music's beat or the person who entered through it. All he was aware of was the black brace over his wrist and the dull pain that shouldn't be there interfering with a routine he could perform in his sleep. It was the dance that had caught the agency's attention, the dance everyone at summer camp last year created together, and the one that was meant for multiple people.

Souta preformed in a group dance once in his entire life, and it ironically was a bittersweet last performance. Not three months later he hurt his wrist so badly he was unable to participate in any physical activity, and when he recovered he got sent _here._ Not that the boarding school was really the worst place imaginable. His classmates were just a bit more malicious than in his previous one.

"Um…excuse me?" The voice that broke the rhythm wasn't even that loud or harsh, but Souta started from his trance and stumbled in surprise. Blinking as he fumbled for the off switch, he recovered and gave a hasty bow when he recognized the figure. Soreshi hadn't lied when he said he wanted Souta to talk to their sempai. He was at a loss now, unsure of what the other boy had intended for him to do here. Luckily- or unluckily as it turned out- Hayama filled in the gaps.

"You're Oshiro Souta-kun, right? Nishimura-kun asked that I talk to you, if you don't mind…" Souta offered a numb nod, more concerned about how Soreshi's group managed to rope the second year on the dance team into this mess. They must have made him fabricate some strange lie to tell to Hayama, for there wasn't any other reason the third year would seek him out in the dead of night. Someone must have given him directions as well. The part of the building where the studios were located had been a challenge to find at first.

Souta pulled over some chairs stacked against the far wall for them to sit and messed around with the Velcro on his wrist brace while he waited for the senior to say something. He wanted to stop the annoying habit, though lately he found himself resorting to the subconscious action more often than he used to. The noise offered an endless irritation on his nerves, and brought people's attention to it. Inevitably, in such a quiet room Hayama had to wonder and ask.

"I hurt it during practice a few months ago," Souta muttered, forcing his other arm to fall against his side no matter how much it itched to move. Hayama nodded and Souta saw for the first time that he had a very honest-looking face, one belonging to the sort of person that didn't like to cause trouble for anyone. "You…needed something, sempai?"

"Oh, right, Nishimura-kun was just concerned…about your relationships here at Shidou, so he asked me to talk to you about it."

Souta frowned in confusion as he considered the senior's words. "If you'll excuse my asking, why did he send you of all people? We don't know each other." Furthermore, he spread those rumors and scandalous stories on Soreshi's behalf. In truth he was no better than those boys were. Not that Hayama could have known, of course, except almost the entire freshman class had some involvement at one point or another. By principle Souta had to have participated too. "Nishimura-san could have told me himself."

"He didn't really know how to say it. I'm not too sure either, but…you seem like you're a nice person. You're talented, and he seems to think that you're happy here, and that's what counts. But, people like those other first years…Well, I'm sure they're good people too, but…" Hayama did not leave the impression that he was a good speaker, too often stumbling over his words for Souta to understand instantly. When he did get the message, he realized why Nishimura sent him.

The second year was not collaborating with Soreshi after all. Unlike the freshmen, the second years had some time to become acquainted with the seniors. They knew them just a little better, knew what sort of people they really were. It was natural that Nishimura feel frustrated that he could do nothing about it, when a first year was directly under his instruction. Souta could not say he didn't understand anymore. He just didn't know how to react. There wasn't much he could do about it.

"None of us…are at all _that_ good people if the rumors have not stopped yet. I…I deeply apologize for our inconsiderate words." Souta bowed deeply and straightened after a moment, still unused to the old custom even after six months here. The habit had once been just that, but the years had made him forgetful. Hayama shook his head, still appearing a bit awkward and not at all what the other third years looked like on a daily basis. Maybe it was because they were alone or maybe it was because Hayama just wasn't like them.

"But even though I apologize, I don't know how to fix it. I'm from a rich family, but at the same time I'm really not. I…I like to get by life on my own feet, if that makes sense." Souta didn't know how to speak without revealing things he had an aversion of talking about. Without revealing them, it made him sound silly and immature. "I'm sorry; I don't really know what I'm talking about. It's late, after all…um, good night, sempai."

Souta replaced the chair and hurriedly changed his shoes before the senior had time to question him about anything else. Tomorrow he could talk with Nishimura after practice and understand the full story, although there wasn't much left to understand. As he loosened the laces on his sneakers, it struck him that he still didn't know why Soreshi had wanted him here to begin with. What was the benefit of having Hayama in the studio? It was not to make his boyfriend jealous or anything silly like that, and Souta had seen the unimpressive physical skills his peers had.

Besides that, high school was high school and reprimands in such a prestigious one were sure to be harsh. That was why they chose the indirect attack. As Souta walked down the path across campus to the dorms, he couldn't help but think that even though he had apologized, he had unwittingly made the situation worse by tenfold. Soreshi's conspicuous absence spoke volumes about his fatal mistake.

"_There is no less eloquence in the voice, in the eyes and in the air of a speaker than in his choice of words._" (François de la Rochefoucauld)

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><p>• As a side-note, since the Japanese (and other Asian) languages don't have purals, when 'sempai' is written it may be referring to one person or a group of them. Certain words such as sempai, kohai, and the honorifics don't have a concise translation so I left them as they are in speech. However, characters like Gii and Takumi have narratives that don't include the honorifics since it is not in first person POV. And well, there is a reason for the inconsistency between Souta's use of seniorssempai and first years/freshmen. It'd be nice to see how much you can infer from the short piece about him. And again, no fears, Takumi and Gii are coming back into the spotlight next chapter.

• Just in case anyone was wondering, Souta dances in a more hip-hop style, and he really _is_ a social person, even though he comes off as antisocial here.


	2. The Easiest Things Are Difficult

_**What We Were, What We Want to Be**_

_**Chapter Two,**__ the Easiest Problems Have the Hardest Solutions_

Every night Takumi had to remind himself that each whispered word he heard that day was false, that Gii loved him for being him and nothing else. The money didn't matter then, and it still didn't matter now. Takumi did not love Gii because he was rich. He did not seduce him or blackmail him or do any other inane thing that he heard every day. Each assumption was far, far from the truth, but in part Takumi found doubt in his mind if he didn't firmly disclaim them. It didn't matter what everyone else told him, even Gii, because at the end of the day the seedlings of worry still consumed him.

Tonight was no different. Misu questioned his whereabouts in excruciating detail, but only because he cared in his own round-about way, then left him to his thoughts and homework. It made him wonder about his own motives. Takumi had gone to those out-of-the-way rooms because Nishimura had asked, that was true. But he had also gone because he wanted to know if the first years really _were_ as malicious towards him as they seemed. That wasn't true, he found out with relief.

Takumi still didn't know what to do with the information. Knowing that not all the first years shared each others' sentiments didn't help solve anything besides curiosity. He wasn't suited to this type of work after all, but one of his friends might know what to do. Gii was too busy to worry with this trivial thing, he figured, especially since he divided his time to be with Takumi and keep up his responsibilities. Perhaps, if just that _one_ boy had his doubts about their actions, they could make that spread to the others.

Sighing as he switched off the lights and collapsed onto his bed, Takumi resolved to ask someone like Akaike- or Misu if he was in the mood- about it tomorrow. Oshiro appeared genuine in his apology, though Takumi wasn't sure whether he could have differentiated if the boy had told him a lie or not. He _could_ have sworn that there was something bizarre about Oshiro's voice when he spoke. What that was Takumi didn't know. As he buried his face against his pillow, he added that onto the list of questions he had the next day.

"Did you think he was lying?" Akaike asked in his normal calm, assessing voice. There was a brief break between classes where Takumi decided to share his concerns with his friend. Gii had some other matters to attend to, but not before he gave his boyfriend a quick hug in the hallway. Takumi smiled at the short memory, infinitely glad that he no longer had his phobia of human contact. Now that it was gone, he had no clue as to how he survived so long with it before Gii came.

"Not really, I mean, he sounded really sincere, but there was something weird about his voice. I'm not sure what," Takumi admitted. Akaike nodded and paused, then asked for the boy's name and homeroom in case he was mistaken. Takumi doubted that he really needed confirmation; Akaike had that uncanny ability to know almost everything. "It's Oshiro Souta. He dances, if that helps."

"Oh, _that_ boy…in that case, I don't think he's lying either." He summed up his moment of pondering with a confident face. Takumi frowned, not sure where the other boy lost him here.

"Wait, why, Akaike-kun, do you know him?" Akaike shook his head, which only made it a stranger thing for him to have said. Takumi gripped the strap of his backpack tighter and leaned over the wooden picnic table where so many other important talks had occurred. Not so long ago he held that packet of incoming students in his hands here. Belatedly he realized that he could have sorted through that, since he saved it just in case it might serve a use. Even if the idea occurred to him, he realized he would have felt as if it were an invasion of privacy if he looked through it.

"The 'weird' thing about his voice is his accent. You've never heard a foreigner speak Japanese, have you? That's probably why you couldn't recognize it. Considering this is the first time he's been back to Japan in eight years, it's not that bad. He's a bit like Gii in a way, having lived in America before he came here. It's not really my place to say anything else, but you don't have to worry about his intentions." Akaike pushed himself away from the table and motioned towards the stairs. It took a moment for Takumi to process the information and follow, still a little numb in light of the story.

Gii was just so much like…Gii that sometimes Takumi forgot that he was from America. He didn't even have the slightest accent. When Takumi did remember, he always found it remarkable that they met and fell in love in this huge world despite the distance between them- socioeconomically, in terms of countries, and even personalities. That another person here had also come from somewhere very far off was also something of a wonder. The truly curious thing was that no one had spoken about it as they had about Gii when they started school. Maybe it wasn't such a big deal, with the commotion still running strong.

"As for what we're going to do…well, I'm sure some devious mind like Misu Arata can think something up, right?" Akaike gave him a brief smile as they met up with the others half way back to class. Takumi nodded in agreement just as Misu approached, a little miffed that they had been talking about him. While the other third year's grudge for Gii hadn't subsided, they managed to coexist with relative peace these days. Misu might have brushed off their request, but by tonight he would probably have something to tell Takumi anyways.

It was amazing how people could change by circumstance, whether it was Misu Arata or Takumi himself. He gave his friends a thin smile as some first years passed them by, on instinct giving a slight bow when in reality they continued their whispers not five seconds later. Biting his lower lip to push away the worries, Takumi shifted his school bag to his other shoulder and kept his eyes on the pale building ahead. He had Japanese literature next- a philosophic class that oftentimes didn't make sense to his logical thought process. Midterms were after Golden Week, and this time he had the time to focus on his studies.

Ironically, their conversation turned to Golden Week as they stepped into the school's main building. Everyone Takumi knew had some fancy or important plans for the break, and he wasn't inclined to speak about his own. They worked their way around to him, naturally, and forced him to answer. "I'm just going home, nothing special," he said, like he did last year and every year before that. Golden Week was not a welcomed holiday until Takumi met Gii, and even now he disliked how his boyfriend had to take trips to America during it.

Meeting Gii- that made the awkward holidays at home bearable, and for that he was thankful.

"You're not doing anything with Saki?" Misu said. It was not in the spiteful way Takumi would have interpreted it as a few short weeks ago, but a mere inquiry. Takumi shook his head, spared having to accept the truth again when Akaike told them how Gii's father needed him in America before he left to do his job as head of the discipline committee. The final bell for fifth period rang and everyone went their separate ways- Takumi reluctantly to his least favorite class.

As expected, that night Misu began wondering what they could do to counteract the first years' rumors, treading on unknown ground as far as Takumi was concerned. The mental battle was something he could barely keep up with- that and the fact that the third years didn't want to become as bad as the first years by using people to attain their goals. Takumi specified that to Gii and Akaike over and over again, knowing that it was more second nature to them to do some form of manipulation than quietly wait around.

The Japanese literature book on Takumi's bed sheets had long become a blur of unintelligible text. Shoving the heavy item away, Takumi flipped onto his back and stared at the blank ceiling with a headache. He turned on his side slightly so that he caught a glimpse of Misu at his desk. "I went to talk to one of the second years last night. He wanted me to talk to a first year. I don't really know why. It didn't do anything. But he doesn't want to spread these rumors."

The look on Misu's face said '_and you think __**I**__ know_'? Takumi gave an awkward shrug and sat up, heading for the door. Maybe if that boy was something, anything like Gii he could talk to him again- and maybe he could do more than he had thought when he promised Gii they were partners in crime. He would have to ask Nishimura for the keys to those rooms again, and bring the second year with him this time. Even with all the changes in Takumi's life, his social skills fell short on him when it came to things like that.

Halfway down the stairs, before he could even begin looking, a hand fell on his arm. Turning, Takumi breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Gii's familiar smile and almost forgot about finding the second year student. His lover's presence _almost_ made him forget the mutters from behind him or the accusatory looks people shot him. Gii remained optimistic and dragged Takumi back the other way.

"I've been so busy today, I'm sorry I didn't come visit sooner." Takumi exhaled a soft laugh at Gii's fretful speech. After the whole incident earlier in the year Gii was always conscious of spending what little time he could with him. It touched Takumi, made him feel special in a way, and he returned the sentiment. Asking Nishimura could wait after all. The rumors hadn't gotten worse at any rate and so long as they remained that way Takumi could still pretend they didn't exist.

"Are you doing the same thing you did last year, for Golden Week?" Gii asked as they reached the third floor and entered his room. Takumi nodded, painfully reminded of their separation again. Not that he _wanted_ to go home and sit around having awkward conversations with his parents, but there was no other choice. His family was not rich and they hardly expended any money or care for his sake anyways. Gii made him crack a bright smile despite this. "Well, I convinced my father to let me take a day for myself. I'm coming back a day early, so we can go somewhere nice then."

"Really?" Takumi said, instantly hopeful that he might have something to look forward towards after all. Gii said nothing as he playfully pushed him down on the bed and gave him a kiss.

* * *

><p>"<em>Aaron, what're you talking about? That's stupid, they don't-<em>" Souta paused when he heard an audible crash on the other line and the string of curses and scolding that followed. With his back against the wall between the phones students were allowed to use, he could observe the people that passed him and almost every one gave him a curious or suspicious look. He knew better than to draw attention to his conversation, but it couldn't be helped that he had to speak English to his friend. At least this way he was able to glare right back at anyone who grew too nosy.

It was a relief that Nishimura picked up the call for him when he did. Aaron understood and spoke passable Japanese, but was by no means stellar. Souta hadn't wanted to talk to anyone from America during his stay here, though that was idealistic and a stupid train of thought. There was no way his friends wouldn't try to contact him after his abrupt transfer to another country. He appreciated the effort, he really did, but it caused more trouble than good, similar to the conversation he had with Hayama.

"_Sorry, some idiots broke a beaker. The professor stuck me with the title of 'assistant'- what does that even mean, anyways? So now I have to spend my morning making sure these brats don't blow up the labs. 'This is good experience for you', he says, yeah __**right**__._" The grimace on Souta's face disappeared as his friend ranted; his hands grasped the receiver with a little less strength. Aaron was a university student who somehow balanced school, work, raising his siblings, and taking care of the household for his busy parents while still maintaining decent social ties. Souta didn't deny that he envied him, just a little.

Somehow he had the time to find the obscure number for the school Souta gave him as well. With friends like these, Souta sometimes thought that he didn't need to make anymore in Shidou High School. Of course, that type of thinking made Aaron switch into lecture mode and promise that if Souta didn't make a friend by summer break, there would be some hell to pay. So far Souta hadn't been successful; he concentrated more on the irritating fact that he still couldn't dance properly and trying to avoid talking to people. If he talked, these intelligent- if slightly dumb, morally speaking- students would hear his accent. And that would be just as bad as being the kid who couldn't speak English years ago.

"_Aaron, how did they get your number? What do they want now?_" Souta's voice turned serious. On the other end he heard Aaron leave the noisy science lab for the relative quiet of the morning campus outside. Time conversions were never his forte, but it was sometime in the morning over on that side of the world. Aaron couldn't have been in class for long, and here Souta was ready to collapse from the day's work. "_Let me call them, I'll-_"

"_Don't do that. They'll only annoy you and you have school to concentrate on, don't you? My number's in the phonebook, you know. All they wanted was to talk to you. They said some sentimental things, but…as your friend I'm not supposed to believe them, am I?_" Aaron's deep sigh revealed his frustration. Souta made an affirmative sound, suddenly turning around to face the phone as he spotted Soreshi rounding the corner. For anyone else to see, it was fine; his roommate however could harass him until morning if he saw or heard anything. Only when he started up the stairs did Souta answer.

"_They don't even have custody over me anymore. They can't think that I'll be __**nice**__ to them now, do they? Or that by being nice to me they'll get something out of it?_" Souta kicked the wall and pulled away with an acute pain in his foot, quite aware that as a dancer it was incredibly reckless to do so and not caring anyways. As a substitute he bit his lip until it ached and his nerves calmed. Aaron might have offered a kind hand and smile if he was here, but he was miles and a day away.

"_Look, I just wanted you to know. How's your hand feeling?_" Souta kicked himself this time, for being stupid and inconsiderate. He mumbled an apology and received a warm laugh in return. Reminded of the injury, Souta shifted the wrist brace around and winced when he felt a sharp pang of pain. To Aaron he lied, though, and reassured him that it had stopped hurting already. But if there was anyone in the world who knew Souta, it was Aaron and he had all the instincts of a mother bear. "_It's not too late to say anything. You're coming back this summer, aren't you?_"

"_Is that guy still calling __**you**__?_" Souta abruptly said. Aaron fell silent; he took that as an affirmative. Sure, it was a low blow and one he wasn't proud of, but he hadn't wanted to talk about something useless anymore. Aaron would understand at any rate. "_He's causing more harm than they are. You should do something. It's never going to leave you alone, even if he eventually does. I'll help you even, when I come back. Just because your other friends won't-_"

"_Don't say silly things like that. Don't say that like I don't know it. You don't understand; I hope you never do. Concentrate on school, that's the only important thing._"

Souta wasn't happy about the call anymore and quickly told another blatant, tactless lie that another student had to use the phone. Aaron said his polite goodbye anyways, this time without the warmth it should have held. Silly as it was, Souta found it hard to remind himself that his friend wasn't mad at him, but his foster parents, the guy who kept calling him, and at those relatives who took him away. Souta replaced the receiver with an arm of lead and walked away with as much composure as possible.

It wasn't fair that he had to manage a university student's problems because his other friends wouldn't do it for him. The world wasn't fair, he knew that a lot better than many of the people walking and chatting around him now, but he still wanted to be a child and complain. His unpleasant attitude didn't go unnoticed by Nishimura as he passed him in the foyer. He was probably still curious about the phone call, not that Souta planned on telling him anything.

The older boy followed him outside and down the path that led away from the dorms to the other buildings. The duffle bag Souta took from his room swayed as he walked- a heavy reminder of his shortcomings and successes. Against the inky dark of the night he could barely see Nishimura or his own feet, but being blind didn't deny their existence. Souta breathed a sigh as he ducked his head and continued. Tonight he wanted to dance, not listen to questions he couldn't- wouldn't- answer.

"Oshiro-kun, is something…wrong? Who were you talking to?" Nishimura's footsteps behind him stopped, urging his own feet to pause against his will. His eyes flickered to the side as his sempai approached, though he saw shadows until the other boy stood not a yard from him. Nishimura's features were faint, yet distinguishably worried against the dark. Why he cared so much Souta wasn't sure, since he had talked to the second year a handful of times.

Continuing until they reached the building, Souta said, "Nothing's wrong, sempai. An old friend of mine was just checking up on me, though he has more problems than I do." He hurried into the doors to avoid the scrutiny of the other boy's stare, afraid that he might find traces of the lie he told. Aaron managed to prevent the majority of his friends from finding out his true worries or concerns, so in reality Souta had no way of knowing if he had any problems at all. "Really, it's nothing."

The studio's bright lights blinded the boys for a moment as they entered and tossed their bags into a corner. During regular hours the space was for the second years' and seniors' use only, so the freshmen often stood aside to watch from afar. Nishimura moved into the center of the room and motioned for Souta to stand beside him with a smile on his face. At least for now both of them could ignore whatever problems lurked in the shadows.

"You need to learn how to dance in sync with everyone, right? I'll practice with you, if you want," Nishimura said cheerfully as he searched a nearby box for the CD the team was using at the moment. Crouched over tying his shoes, Souta took a deep breath and swore that this time he would _try_ to do it. If he managed it once, there was no reason for his inability to do it now. He'd already memorized the moves, though he had no intentions of performing in the beginning of the year. All that was left to do was move.

As the second year watched him run through the steps, he started talking. From the mirror Souta saw his nervous movements as he paced behind him. When he completed a quick twirl, he was able to catch another glimpse of his sempai's expression.

"Hayama-sempai is a nice person. You shouldn't listen to those guys," he finally brought himself to say. Souta gave him a sharp nod only to find that the other boy wasn't even facing his direction. For a moment he faltered, then remembered that he didn't care whether or not anyone was watching. For so long he practiced alone; it shouldn't matter that his sempai wasn't looking. "You're a bit different from them; that's why I'm saying this. Don't you know how much it hurts those two, even if they don't show it?"

Those words shocked Souta from his concentration and he stumbled for his inattention. Almost on instinct his hands formed tight fists and his carefree manner fell. "Yeah, I know, but what am _I_ supposed to do about it, Nishimura-san? Do I tell them to stop it? They'll only laugh and torment _me_ too." Souta felt the sympathy he had before disappear in light of his own memories. In the short years he lived in America, the ones that felt like an eternity, he'd known so many people who hid what pain others caused them. He knew what it did to people, so perhaps it wasn't Nishimura he was angry at after all.

"I mean, why do the others hate Hayama-sempai anyways? When I came here, I thought it was because they were gay. I understood that, but…that's not even the truth of the matter." Souta turned away from Nishimura's back and faced the mirrored wall. The scowl on his face was an ugly feature. "Unfortunately, I think I understand now. And I don't think it's something we can change easily. It's very hard to force someone to think differently from how they were raised."

"And how do you know people can't change? What makes you the judge of that?"

"I'm a totally different person than I was eight years ago. That's why I'm telling you that I can't help you," Souta said as he walked away from the center of the room. Nishimura's previous lesson plans were long forgotten as he gathered his things and left. He didn't even stop to change his shoes.

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><p>• I figured out that I can't write Takumi and Gii well because they're actually pretty happy where they are now. I need to write conflict, not fluff. xD . Thank you for the wonferful reviews, it really helped me write this chapter seeing as it went a bit slowly.<p>

• So, italics are for either conversations on the phone or in another language. And well, I know I made it so that Souta came from America (at least, he lived there for awhile) and it wasn't the best move but his character is prestablished so I didn't want to change it. Even though it comes off as a Mary (Gary) Sue trait, I'll try to work with it. I really want to know what people think about this, because I wasn't too sure myself.

• **Edit-** I accidently said Tsumori instead of Soreshi, so I just fixed that. .


	3. We Are the Center of the World

_**What We Were, What We Want to Be**_

_**Chapter Three, **__Those Who Believe Themselves the Center of the World_

In his elation from discovering that he and Gii were able to spend some time together during the holiday, Takumi almost forgot to inform his parents. Not that he expected them to care, of course. His mother might want him home during the week, to pretend that they were a family, but when he was there his parents ignored him. Whatever contact he had with them was awkward and strained. If Shidou allowed students to stay during breaks, even if it meant being without his friends, Takumi would stay without hesitation. Anything was better than returning home to strangers.

By this point Takumi was closer to the friends he made in the three years at school than he was with his parents. He didn't have any idea why his mother continued to put up illusions when he adamantly refused them. She never devoted too much energy or worry into her efforts, which was why Takumi had told Gii the hard truth that he might never forgive them. Maybe if they had tried harder, maybe if they hadn't given up so easily, they could have had some semblance of a family again- anything but the awkward silence between them.

That was why by the end of Golden Week Takumi still hadn't told his mother that he was spending the day with a friend. Without much else to do besides talking with Gii for a short time over the phone each day, Takumi decided to study. Concentration came easy in his quiet house- except when his thoughts wandered to his lover. Every character then became a blur that made less sense than when he focused on it, not that classical Japanese works held much respect in his mind to begin with.

As third years, studying was most important. It was supposed to come before anything- family, friends, and relationships in general. Takumi still wasn't quite sure where he wanted to attend university, whether to follow Gii or choose his own path. School without Gii would mean a similar loneliness to what he felt as a first year. Something told him that he needed to stop relying on his boyfriend for protection; that someday he needed to become independent. It didn't mean he should break ties with him, only that he had to learn to live without Gii around all the time. Already that started to happen whether Takumi was happy about it or not.

The matter was that even this limited time they had together was nothing compared to what would happen after high school. University absorbed a student's life entirely, even normal students who weren't expected to inherit companies. Relationships were always secondary in society, but to Takumi they now meant the world. Without the friends he had now, he might not have the drive to study, and certainly wouldn't have had that burden lifted from his shoulders. The truth was that all of his friends were already anticipating the time when they had to enter the business world; whether or not that was a good feeling was a different matter.

Takumi should try hard, too, but even as he muttered it to himself, the numbers against his notebook began to blur. When he woke, it was to the sound of a phone's shrill shriek. Blinking away the sleep from his eyes, Takumi scrambled for his cell phone stuffed inside his school bag and flipped it open, knowing it was Gii. Sure enough, the smooth, though slightly tired-sounding voice of his boyfriend answered. A smile twitched at the corner of his lips as he listened to his ramblings. Whatever stress he'd gone through he released, his voice still thoughtful even as he complained. Gii made sure to veil his displeasure by asking about his boyfriend at regular intervals- and that was what mattered.

Maybe an hour had passed over the phone until Takumi's ear and arm and neck ached fiercely, and he decided with heavy reluctance that he should say good-bye. Tomorrow they would meet and go on a proper date, at least, the most proper date that could occur between them. There was no sense in talking all night and exhausting themselves when something infinitely better was to happen the next day. And Takumi still needed to tell his mother that he was leaving a day early- no sense in going all the way to the city only to return for his bags.

Suppressing the warmth emerging from his chest, Takumi stood and went into the hallway to find his mother. She was in the kitchen as he expected, preparing dinner before his father returned home. For a moment nothing seemed to have changed about the scene, and if he thought hard enough about it, nothing really _had_ changed. Some grey streaked his mother's hair, her face was a little more wrinkled, and her distaste at seeing him before she fell back into the usual mask was only a bit stronger.

It was Takumi who had changed, who now had friends and a lover and was happy without consequences for once in his life. School wasn't a painful, misunderstood abyss. He could touch people again and not break down into anxiety and desperate memories. In a way he pitied his own mother, who was still living a dream. Maybe she really did feel regret when they learnt the truth all those years ago. Maybe she _had_ tried to be different, once. If that was true, Takumi was far beyond caring. He still was, even if he was willing to continue to let it slide.

"Mother," Takumi said quietly as he emerged from the darkened hallway. Her hands did not pause in the repetitive motion against the chopping board. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't addressed his parents formally. He knew that in private, in the rare moments of relaxation Gii had with his own father, he called him differently. If a businessman and his son could once in awhile drop formal airs, it shouldn't be this hard for a middle-class family, but it was. Inhaling a breath, he stepped into the tiled kitchen. "I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm going to spend the day with friends from school."

No need to make her suspicious that he was up to his old '_perversion_' again. If this was a particularly bad day of hers she might try accusing him of it- and he didn't think he could stand that twisted face anymore. As it stood, she had stopped cutting vegetables and the kitchen fell into a deadly silence worse than that of before. Without seeing her face he knew her displeasure and different warmth spread through his chest, the warmth of anger.

"Is it so bad to spend a _week_ with your parents? Already we've let you go during other breaks last year. You see your friends all the time at school." Takumi saw her thin fingers curl into a fist against the wet wood, but didn't back down. After last year, standing by and witnessing what his friends would do for him, and knowing all the lengths Gii would go for him, Takumi could find enough strength from them to stay. This was not a battle his friends should fight for him. It was not a battle he wanted Gii to fight for him.

"We already made plans last week; I can't cancel. My friends are important to me. Without them, I would still be lost. Isn't it enough that I visit his grave now?" At that time, Takumi figured that he could somewhat forgive his brother for what he had done. He probably would never completely forgive him, but he'd realized that had his parents been more aware, if they had cared, it wouldn't have gotten that bad. They hadn't noticed their youngest son's loneliness or despair. They hadn't noticed their favorite son's disorder that he probably couldn't help.

"You should have been visiting his grave all along. I-If it weren't for you, he wouldn't even be gone! My Naoto would still be…" Her voice trembled and shook between pain and anger and stabbing Takumi's heart into pieces. The small resolve he previously had was slipping away, but he needed to do this. Her mental state might not change, but he needed to let his mother know that he wasn't going to passively take her orders anymore. Then she turned around, all the hurt and accusation back from whatever pit they had been hidden away in. "Get out, get out _now_, you aren't welcomed here, you were_ never_ welcomed here!"

Steeling himself against her shrill voice, Takumi sharply turned around. "I know," he whispered as he headed back down the hallway. His mother did not follow.

Once in his room, Takumi allowed the burning behind his eyes to trail down his cheeks. He angrily wiped away the tears, not really knowing why her words bothered him. Hadn't he known that all along? He wasn't supposed to care about them anymore. Fumbling for his phone, he dialed his boyfriend's familiar number wrong three times. While he waited as the dial tone rang correctly at last, he bit back the wave of emotion and hurt that had never really left him. He didn't feel anything for his parents now; his present self didn't care what his mother had said. It was his younger self, the betrayed and hurt little boy who was crying.

"Gii, Gii, I'm sorry, can I come a day early? Please, I want to see you," he mumbled through a flurry of tears and anger and sadness that wasn't supposed to be there. His voice hitched and warmed until it hurt even more when he heard the answering concern across the phone. He wanted to hold Gii now; he wanted so desperately to be held in return. It didn't even cross him as ironic that he shied away from touch before he met his boyfriend.

"_Of course, of course you can…I'm in Tokyo now though, do…do you want me to come? I can come get you._" Gii must have been aching to ask who had done this to him so much that his chest hurt as much as Takumi's, but he was considerate enough to withhold his questions. It just made the pangs even sharper, knowing that there was someone who cared enough to travel so far for him. The trip would take a little over two hours by public transit.

"No, no it's okay; Shizuoka is really far for you, I'll just catch a train. Really, it's okay; I promise I'll tell you what's wrong when I get there. Yes I'll be careful, bye, I love you." For the second time that night Takumi said good-bye without really wanting to. Still heavy in his heart and sniffling between his drying tears, Takumi shoved his phone safely into his school bag with its charger and stood to hurriedly pack his things. Most of the things he took from school were still in his bags, except for his textbooks and other study material. Cramming all of the papers in wasn't the easiest task for being so uncoordinated at the moment.

When he was sure that he hadn't missed anything of importance, that his room was as bare as it was before, Takumi shouldered his messenger bag and took his suitcase into his hand. He took a few deep, calming breaths and reassured himself with the fact that Gii would be waiting for him no matter how long it took. His mother couldn't see him like this. He wouldn't let her see him like this, he wouldn't…

"Takumi, are you in there?" said the now tiny, quiet voice of the woman who was supposed to be his mother. Startled by the knock on the door, he almost dropped his suitcase. He wasn't sure how to answer. "Takumi don't go, I-I didn't mean it, you know that, right?" Her voice was shaky and uncertain with a hint of empty, worried humor in it. Takumi stared at his clenched fist and shook his head. She always said things like that to make him feel guilty, as if she still cared. "I'm glad you go see Naoto now."

But she would never address what he _needed_ to hear in order to forgive her. That was what mattered.

Takumi allowed himself one more carefully regulated breath before he opened the door, the mask Gii wore not long ago clear in his mind. The memory was painful for both of them, but Gii had done it nonetheless. Takumi could do it too, for the minute or two it took to leave. Hushing the emotions for a moment, he said with a lowered head, "I know, mother, I overreacted. But my friend's coming all the way down from Tokyo to get me so I have to go met him or else it'd be rude. I don't want to offend him. I-I hope you have a good night."

He allowed time for an appropriate bow before he was off and out the door, just enough yen in his pockets to take him to Tokyo with a heavy heart in his hands. Just as he rounded the corner, he glanced over his shoulder one more time. As expected, the door was shut and all was quiet.

* * *

><p>Souta had forgotten what studying into the darkest hours of the night did to the body until he woke with aches and crumpled math notes underneath his hands, smudged with pencil lead. While he might not admit it, since school started he had been woefully lost and behind on the coursework. Not that he spent his school nights playing catch up lest Soreshi figure out that he had troubles even taking the notes he sometimes borrowed. His entire way of learning was once again twisted and reversed, just as it had been eight years ago. At least this time he didn't have to learn another language.<p>

The Japanese slowly returned to his tongue the more the school environment exposed him to it; the writing was another matter altogether. All those years ago he'd been young and without much knowledge of kanji, his learning of which had abruptly stopped. Aaron in his usual well-intentioned kindness gave him small, collective lists of characters to study and practice with that _he _had used when he was little. They were practical words- questions, around the house phrases, simple items, and simple places. Aaron had written them in his neat hand in the square-box booklets.

There was one problem with that, which Aaron hadn't realized when he handed Souta the stacks: Aaron _Wong_ was Chinese and while some characters were identical in both languages, most were not. At the time Souta hadn't known enough English to respectfully decline his offer and over the years he rather _forgot_ about reading Japanese. Living in America did that. Having Aaron Wong as the older brother he never had and the parental figure that had been taken from him made it that much easier to forget about ever returning to Japan. Except things hadn't worked out the way he wanted.

With no definitive memories of his relatives' personalities, Souta developed new observations about them. The impression he received wasn't the kindest, but that was nothing out of the ordinary for him. The fact that this was his blood related family unnerved him a bit, he admitted. Family should care more about each other than money and politics. His mother and father had. Aaron certainly had. The more time he spent in 'his' studious, proper and plain room void of any personality whatsoever, the more he understood his situation.

Souta was not afraid to admit that he started to miss proper human contact halfway through Golden Week. The cousins and aunts and uncles he had a vague recollection about were often at school or working. When home they presented him with airs of interest and concern that Souta had quite frankly heard enough of in the past eight years. So he holed himself up in his strange, foreign room and studied without abandon once it struck him that he had to wait _three_ years before his hands could change anything besides his grades.

Time zones were abominations he was ready to curse by the time the week was tapering out. Whenever he tried to call Aaron or anyone else the timing was never right. Someone was always grumpy or busy or awake at some ungodly hour of the morning. Sooner or later he stopped that, too. Calling wasn't worth it if it served to be a hindrance to everyone, including himself. At least his books were always opened and ready to be abused whenever he wanted to concentrate.

Before he returned to Shidou he desperately needed to learn as much vocabulary as possible. Kanji was impossible right now, even if others might find it strange or hilarious if he continued to write in hiragana and katakana for everything beyond grade school words. When he had classes where he knew no one would bother spreading unnecessary information he allowed himself to take notes in English, to speed the process up.

Souta wished that he had never returned. He could have lived his entire life satisfied if he never found out the truth. The agency was his escape, offering the path he originally set his eyes upon in the States. Heir-be-damned; someone else could have the title. Eight years passed without him, he was sure they could survive a lifetime. All that was left was to endure and remember that first and foremost _dance_ was his priority. No matter what his relatives said, no matter what Aaron said, that was what he wanted. It was the only thing that made him feel as if he was _worth_ what he was doing.

If Souta was anything like his classmates, it was in that he _would_ get what he sought after no matter the costs, no matter the time and patience it required. Sometimes the intentions might be wrong, might be cruel, but even he couldn't deny that they had their similarities.

As he stepped into the taxi that would drive him all the way to Shidou in the mountains outside Tokyo, Souta inhaled a soft breath and resolved to return a different person. He'd told Nishimura that he'd changed from the eight year old he used to be. To perhaps fill some empty space in his heart that clawed from his chest he was willing to change again, even if it didn't end so happy. Doing what was right _should_ pay off one day, shouldn't it? Aaron tried to live by the best form of justice he could comprehend and even Souta never appreciated him enough for that. But it was those little moments of happiness in knowing that you made a difference, Aaron had told him, that made the effort worthwhile.

"_The greatest thing in family life is to take a hint when a hint is intended- and not to take a hint when a hint isn't intended._" (Robert Frost)

* * *

><p>• Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews; they really made me push to finish this despite the fact that it is finals week. I've been working on so many other works lately and been busy with school, but yesterday and today I thought my readers deserve to know what happens next. To one annon who asked: Souta is a (freshman) student at Shidou like the other rich kids, and the reason he is in Japan at all is sort of revealed in this chapter. Maybe you can figure it out already, but it's pretty absract. Aaron is his friend who is in college in America, who practically raised him because his foster homes didn'tcouldn't. Don't really know if you get to really meet Aaron, since he's in America.

• The last section's a bit of a drabble in a sense, but I figured the information needed to go. Is it too lengthy and informative? And ah, Souta, your unpleasant qualities are starting to show. xD Silly, you don't do what's right so that it will pay off in the end.

• Oh, since this is a yaoi/shounen-ai, should I or should I not pair Souta with anyone and if so, who? (What type of person, or an est. person, etc) But I won't pair him with any character who we really _know_ from the series, as in the main characters or their friends. By est. characters I mean people like Soreshi, whose names we know but whose personalities are a mystery.


	4. Warm Stars, Lonely Nights

_**What We Were, What We Want to Be**_

_**Chapter Four, **__Warm Stars, __Lonely Nights_

The train's rumblings echoed in his head as the nighttime lights flashed outside the windows faster than his eyes could keep up with. The solid weight of his suitcase at his feet grounded him to reality, keeping him where he could still make some sense. His phone was in his pocket and thankfully Gii hadn't called since he left the house. Right now Takumi was numb and pensive and Gii's worry would only serve to toss him back into the emotion-filled world that he couldn't handle. With his lover there, he had a feeling that he might not be able to stand up again.

The story completely changed when he arrived at his doorstep, Takumi knew. Gii was what supported him even when he was certain he could no longer go forward. He needed to hear that Gii still cared. There was always a tiny seed of doubt and fear imbedded in his mind, quietly asking if his boyfriend had grown tired of him yet. It was absurd, it was irrational, but it was also a very human worry- the fear of abandonment. Of course Gii would never be the type to leave without warning. Even if they separated, Takumi had a feeling that Gii wouldn't run away.

The train rattled to a temporary stop, the metals doors sliding open and admitting a few sparse passengers. Some departed and there were probably ten people around when the vehicle chugged along again. The eerie silence of train rides was unbroken, everyone minding their own business and unconcerned with strangers. They could all have the same destination and still never share a word. That was just how trains worked. The momentary truce between people in these close quarters was almost always honored.

Takumi waited and waited, hand never leaving his suitcase and mind straying between ten topics within a minute. Thinking about Gii made him warm with pride, but also brought his thoughts back to his mother and the reason his boyfriend had been so concerned. He halted his memories at his mother and backtracked, sometimes wondering how Gii's father might react to his sudden arrival. Did the man know about their relationship? Gii never liked to hide their feelings, but around his father he might have. It would be strange if a random schoolmate showed up in the middle of the night.

He tried not to let himself worry. Gii had invited him after all, within a split second of hearing his situation at home. If his father did not yet know, they could keep a secret for a single night before they went out tomorrow. Then they were back to Shidou with its horribly gossipy freshman students and zero privacy in light of Gii's status. But at least there everyone knew about them. Some may not like it, but everyone knew. Those students were quickly becoming a problem, too. Takumi hated crossing paths with them now, for fear of hearing the ugly rumors they spread.

Sometimes he feared that they might do something worse than talk- that they might decide emotional bullying wasn't enough anymore. Not that Gii or any of their friends for that matter wouldn't raise hell if they laid a finger on him, but Takumi still had his doubts. There were times when he was alone or with other students, and couldn't always stick by everyone's sides like that. He didn't want to be a burden to his friends, even a wanted and welcomed one.

Then there was summer break, when he would have to return home to Shizuoka and his parents' falsities. Gii might not allow it altogether, though that was wishful thinking. He was usually busy during the year and his family occupied much of his vacation time. Just because last year they'd taken the time together as friends with Akaike didn't mean they couldhave a repeat this year. Takumi had to be realistic- this year had taught him that well, no matter how much he wanted to fanaticize that everything would work out fine.

Except for that fact that he wasn't certain that there was anything to salvage from his parents, least of all his mother. Maybe one day he and his father could push those differences aside and pretend they were alright with each other, at least in front of others. But his mother was the type of woman to never live such a thing down. Until they settled it, she would never give him peace or her blessings. Even though Takumi would probably never forgive them, he really wished that it were possible. Leaving relations between them shattered like this made his heart ache.

If he passed the exams and a good university accepted him, would they even smile? Those thoughts engulfed his mind when he studied sometimes, wondering where he'd went wrong. Gii always said it when he innately knew his boyfriend was having doubts- that nothing was his fault. He'd tried his best- the best that any child could do under those circumstances. While Takumi did know that Gii spoke nothing but the truth, sometimes it was hard to convince his mind of such.

The train came to another hitching stop. Tokyo was far from Shizuoka and his thoughts would only serve to torment him more as the night grew on. Reluctantly, Takumi let his head fall against his chest and closed his eyes. Sleep was good, even if he sometimes encountered nightmares. At least they were manifestations of the past, never of the equally horrific future. The night's events had left him drained and empty, and while he doubted that a short nap could remedy that, he was willing to try. With his last thoughts focused on his lover and his friends and all the good things that had happened to him, Takumi fell asleep.

He woke with the same instincts the other passengers had. The train had arrived in a Tokyo station around ten o' clock. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Takumi stood on weak, unsteady legs and grasped his luggage. While he stumbled onto the platform still half asleep, he pulled the sheet of notebook paper that had Gii's address out. Squinting at the squished kanji he'd written in a hurry, he rushed towards the entrance. Crowds never did completely agree with him, even after all this time. They still made him feel vulnerable and claustrophobic without his friends around.

He walked out into the streets wondering where to turn when he caught sight of a familiar face that brought a smile to his lips. The tiredness behind his eyes and the heavy weight in his chest lifted as he headed over as fast as he could with the luggage behind him. Yes, he was happy and beyond happy to see that his boyfriend cared and loved him still- even if knew the truth in his heart. And he was still embarrassed when Gii embraced him without qualms of the other people around them. The heat in his face wasn't mortifying anymore, at least.

"I missed you," Gii said against his hair, as if everything was normal and at the same time with worry laced in his tone. There would be no suggestive words from him tonight, only tender kisses and caresses if they could find some time alone. And this was what Takumi loved about Gii: his acceptance. He would never push for details Takumi was not ready to reveal if it would cause him pain. As he backed away so they could get in the taxi he said, "I told my father my friend was having family troubles. It's fine; we don't have to tell him anything yet."

Takumi made a sound of confirmation as he shut the door behind him. He was grateful, but curious and too hesitant to voice the thoughts he'd had on the train. Instead he stuck to his nature- and the nature of their people- and apologized. "I missed you too. I'm sorry I called so late asking something like this…"

"No, no, it's fine. Don't feel like you ever have to be sorry to call if you're having trouble," Gii said hurriedly, sincerely. He had a reassuring voice, the type that made anyone feel as if they were important for even a second. Maybe it was his upbringing in America that made him this way, more able to express his feelings than most people Takumi knew. He gave him a small smile and nodded, relieved that it hadn't annoyed him. The apology hadn't been from mere politeness. Calling while he was all flustered like that must have given Gii a shock.

"Do you…want to talk about it?" This time his voice was hesitant, treading on careful ground. Takumi bit his bottom lip and shook his head. It was too soon. He didn't even process his feelings yet and the brief rush of despair at his house wasn't enough to settle his emotions back to normal.

"Not here," Takumi said. The taxi gave off a detached atmosphere, very different from the sweet understanding and intimacy they shared while alone. The impersonal area was just the same as the train. Takumi was still running on autopilot at the moment. He was sure that he would break down later, after he kept his composure long enough to meet Gii's father and possibly mother. A thin stream of fear bubbled in his stomach at that imminent loss of control. As if sensing his anxiety, Gii grasped his hand and squeezed it firmly.

He felt so lucky and _blessed_ to have him. Other people weren't so fortunate- Takumi had experienced that pain firsthand and that made him appreciate every second they spent together even more.

The Saki family probably had other houses throughout Japan. This one was luxurious and large considering it was in Tokyo itself where space was precious. A small, pretty garden peeked through the gates and warm golden lights illuminated the windows. In the city of grey and bustling activity, the house somehow managed to look somewhat quaint. It was welcoming just as Gii was welcoming as he ushered Takumi inside. An amused smile was on his face at his boyfriend's wonder.

Even though Gii had started sharing pieces of his private life outside of Shidou with Takumi, there was still so much he didn't know about his lover. Gii had said that it didn't matter- that they were connected no matter what and while that was true, Takumi felt downright silly for gaping at his home. It was a normal reaction for anyone who didn't come from money of course, and Takumi hadn't expected anything less. Gii gave him a smile and nudged his lower back in a slightly too familiar way to be considered platonic.

If the man and woman that came to the entryway noticed, they didn't bring the topic up. They were older than Takumi's parents, but had all the right emotions his did not have. They were welcoming, if a little formal, and told him not to worry over intruding so late at night. Like Gii, they didn't ask for details- maybe because the pain was hidden but still visible behind his eyes. After a copious amount of bowing and polite exchanges Gii brought Takumi up to a guest bedroom. For a spare, it was nothing to scoff at.

"I'd have you in my bed if I could, but…" Gii teased lightly as they stepped inside. Takumi shook his head and rested his luggage down, a light smile playing on his lips. They'd gotten used to the separation the best they could and made the most out of what time they did have together. Apparently Gii wasn't concerned about his parents, because as soon as he'd closed the door he engulfed Takumi in a warm hug. He pressed his lips against his and sat them on the bed, eyes now serious and as loving as ever. "What happened, Takumi?"

"You know that…my mother still blames me for what happened with my brother," he struggled. Placing a hand on Gii's, which was wrapped around his shoulders, he found the strength to continue. Those overwhelming emotions from before- the utter despair and guilt that shouldn't be there- returned and made tears form in his eyes. "For wanting to spend a day with my "friends" …she didn't like that. It became that I didn't want to see them, that it was my fault brother…and that I'm not welcomed there and never have been.

"I know it's true, that they only cared when my brother cared because they only loved him but, I still get like this," Takumi said between stifled breaths. He didn't want to cry again, so he was holding back the tears that were escaping no matter what. Gii wiped away the stray tears with a gentle touch, fingers lingering along his face for a moment before grasping a trembling hand. "It shouldn't matter anymore, but they're my parents…I want some peace with them. Is it wrong that I don't want to leave things like this?"

Gii paused a moment, running his other hand through Takumi's hair. "No, it's not wrong," he finally said as he turned his lover so that they faced each other. "But if you only get hurt from it, then it's not worth it. If they won't change, don't torture yourself by trying to become what will never happen. They have an amazing, nice son who's so considerate it hurts him. And if they can't see that, they don't deserve you. It might hurt…that you can never be exactly what they want you to be, but your happiness comes first. Does that make sense?"

Takumi held Gii's hand tight and nodded, staring straight into his eyes and seeing all that he'd fallen in love with there. Like that first night they shared together, there was no disgust evident in his lover's face. But Takumi found it hard to accept his words, to truly push past those scars without forgetting them altogether. Moving on while acknowledging the past and coming to terms with it was not easy. It was an internal war Takumi had been ignoring for far too long. With a quiet smile, he told Gii everything there was to know within a few short seconds.

This wasn't over; he couldn't accept that even if he knew it was right. He was sorry for hurting himself and causing his boyfriend grief over it as well, and sorry that he dredged up painful memories. And he was eternally grateful. He couldn't voice how much he appreciated there being someone for him to run to, for having made so many loyal friends because of this one person. And no matter where this went, Gii would follow at his side and that was more than Takumi could ever have hoped for.

Despite all of those emotions, Takumi settled for one impossibly silly one. "I'm sorry I keep on getting sad like this. It…it'll make things awkward tomorrow." Gii, for a moment, lost the calmness that usually hung about him as he processed the apology. Then he burst into a short bout of light laughter.

"There's no need to apologize for something like that! I told you, I love you no matter what. Now come on, I'll stay with you until you fall asleep, okay?" Takumi sniffed away the last of his sadness for the night and smiled, moving to change his clothes. After all this he wanted to sleep a peaceful sleep, and forget about it momentarily. Tomorrow was another day. Underneath the foreign covers Gii joined him, arms wrapped loosely around Takumi as his breathing evened out.

Though the lights were still on, he hadn't closed his eyes for more than five minutes before a world of darkness and dreams and bliss overwhelmed him.

* * *

><p>Souta had managed to avoid any complicated conversation with his relatives the entire week- except for the last day. To his annoyance, it began with a phone call. That was how most things in his life ended and started. If his parents hadn't answered the phone, they wouldn't have gone out that night. The agency had given him his dreams and destroyed his world within five minutes. The night Aaron had called last year in that uncharacteristically broken, vulnerable voice had shattered his impression of his friend forever.<p>

"_Hello?_" he had said into the receiver in English. There had been no doubt in his mind about who was on the other end. He'd been trying to avoid this for months, ever since he arrived and stepped off that plane. The voice that answered- the same damned voice he heard every day for four years- made his hands curl in anger. He made sure not to clench his one hand too tightly. Even grasped loosely as it was, hot tendrils of pain shot up his arm and left behind an unpleasant tingle.

"_Souta, how've you been? Is your family treating you good? Why haven't you called? It's been a few months already, we'd thought you'd be settled in by now._" The cordial, fake tones were irksome. He bit his lip to restrain himself from losing what little composure he had. The false concern bothered him the most. He hated the liars who pretended to care while they really held nothing but hate and contempt. If someone hated him, he wanted to know even if it hurt. "_Souta, what's wrong? Are you still there?_"

He wanted to say a lot of things right there and then. _Why did you bother Aaron? Leave him alone! Why do you pretend that you care? I won't be coming back. I hate you, what did I ever do wrong to you? _More than four years worth of negative emotions choked him, but Souta didn't release them. He couldn't and didn't know why, and that annoyed him more than anything. Instead he managed, "_I'm fine. I'm adjusting…Why did you call?_"

They said a lot of things, a lot of excuses Souta didn't really listen to. He fiddled with the pencil in his hand, twirling it around his fingers while their voices droned in the background. The dog was also barking, but they didn't seem to care. Souta had always taken care of that dog. He wondered if it missed him, if it even remembered him. Not that he would ever see it again. Not that he ever wanted to return. If he didn't hear from them again in his life, it would be too soon.

"_Isn't your family rich? Do they give you everything you want?_" If Souta hadn't known them better, he would have missed the underlying connotation in those words. He held his breath for a moment and replied that yes, they were rich and no, he never asked for anything besides school supplies and clothes. Well, he'd also asked for all the long distance phone calls he wanted and they hadn't even blinked an eye. It didn't seem very important now, though. He knew why his foster parents had called and they were building up to that.

He couldn't give it to them. The fortune wasn't his to touch. Not that he would have given anything to them even if he had any right to it. He probably wouldn't want it if he _was_ entitled to it. "_You're not getting anything. __**I'm**__ not getting anything when I turn eighteen._"

"_You don't need it!_" his foster father boomed. He seemed to have missed the point. "_Because that talent agency's going to cover your ass and everyone's who's raised you since then is just gonna be tossed to the dogs. Don't you feel guilty for that at all?_" Souta scowled and flicked the pencil a little too hard. It skittered away and fell beneath his desk. He leaned against his chair and glanced outside the window. The city view greeted him. Maybe he could take a walk later and hope he wouldn't get lost.

"_Not really. No one over there's really raised me._" Souta left Aaron out of the conversation, but in reality Aaron had been the only one who taught him anything. He'd taught him how to speak and write and given him his manners and morals. Souta hadn't really had a true family besides his parents. These relatives, if they were anything like they were now, weren't really a family. They were too distant, too consumed in their own lives. His foster parents had been the same. Only two homes had ever felt somewhat safe and he could hardly remember them. That had been at the very beginning and he hadn't been in the right state of mind.

"_I'm just a token here, you know. They have me because they'd look bad if they tossed their nephew out on the curb and he became something some day. They won't give me any money they don't need to, even if it originally belonged to my parents. The old Souta Oshiro is dead._" He felt undeniably weird speaking about himself like that, but it was _true_. The little boy that maybe would have taken over the family business was forever erased by that car accident. He couldn't even remember much from before that. Seven years of memories were just blurs.

They were screaming again, like they always did. With how he'd lived before, Souta wouldn't ever trust himself to take over the business even if his relatives had offered it. He didn't even know exactly what it was that his family did, except it had something to do with financing. No, he was happy to stay with dancing and the world of entertainment. After his arm healed, the agency was going to work with him more. He wasn't sure how far it would take him- except that with his identity known he would go farther than he anticipated. Not only did he have talent, but also a name.

It was a weird sensation, to be more than just some nobody on the street. Souta hadn't realized that he'd hung up on his foster parents until he sat in silence for a few minutes. People who needed compensation for a good deed probably weren't such good people at all, especially if they chased after it like this. Souta laid the phone aside, lamenting that he would just have to give it to someone to put away. He had no clue where everything in this house was. Suddenly tired and on the verge of painful, joyful memories, Souta pulled himself to bed.

After a week he still wasn't used to it. Souta wasn't good with change, never had been. The situation forced him to accept it and acclimate himself, but he didn't welcome it happily. Sighing heavily while he placed pleasant images in his mind- of the sweet, careless times with his friends- Souta drifted off to sleep. He refused to touch anything further back than meeting Aaron, away from that night and the blazing lights and ambulance's cries.

He still hated trucks with a passion.

"_There are only two ways to live your life. One as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle._" (Albert Einstein)

* * *

><p>• I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, because it was particularly special for me to write. For instance, what Gii says to Takumi are words I've wanted to express to my own parents for a long time, but I'm not good with spoken words, like Takumi, so I just stay silent. To express these things, even if through characters, is almost therapeutic. I've personally drawn from my own observations to write what Takumi is going through and it isn't pleasant. The saying "blood is thicker than water" really does apply and torment people here.<p>

• So, there's a little more on Souta's past and what's going on with him. Maybe it fleshes him out some more. Thanks for all of the supportive reviews. Next chapter is back to school and the horror of testing. On another note, some phrases in here may seem stilted or something people normally wouldn't say in conversation. This is because I imagine them speaking Japanese and in my experiences, this is what they would say translated of course. (Like saying a "nice son" would use _yasashii/yasakute(?)_ which is translated as nice, but doesn't exactly sound right in English)


	5. We Are Puppets, Pull Our Strings

_**What We Were, What We Want to Be**_

_**Chapter Five, **__We Are Puppets, Pull Our Strings_

May meant tests and studying late into the night for the students at Shidou. In some naïve wish, Takumi hoped that the first years' would be too busy with their schoolwork to create more untrue rumors. Even right after Golden Week they had been hacking away at the various cruel insults and not-so-subtle implications. Takumi had avoided confrontation for the time being, but on a campus like Shidou there was only so much time he could buy. Summer vacation was in July, which was months away and nothing to look forward towards yet.

Each day was longer and more tiring than the last. The weekends weren't a short reprieve, but since the school was a ways into the mountains not many students took the busses to the city. Frequently he didn't have a chance to say good night to Misu before he drifted asleep, sometimes on top of his books. When he woke up he would study a little more or complete any unfinished assignments before heading off to class. With such a busy work schedule for Takumi, who hadn't joined any clubs even in his third year, he couldn't imagine what the others were feeling.

His roommate was hardly around nowadays, but Shingyouji still trailed after his shadow nonstop, so Takumi didn't really worry when he stumbled into the room late at night. Student Council activities would only expand after summer vacation, after all, with the festival's arrival shortly afterwards. Naturally both Gii and Akaike were ghosts on campus around this time, either gone somewhere studying or handling their responsibilities. As a result Takumi found himself a little lonely in May. Last year Gii had stayed in the same room, so he wasn't completely separated.

Every now and again Toshihisa would drop by and spend some time doing homework in his room, and the former roommates would catch up with each other then. It was the best form of fun anyone could get during this time anyways. Once a week Takumi visited Gii's room on the upper floors without fail, even if it was only to hug or kiss for a minute or so. And despite all the chaos on campus, his boyfriend hadn't forgotten about what happened during Golden Week. He asked about it sometimes, in careful tones.

Takumi didn't have an answer for him. As he grew accustomed to doing throughout his life, he just ignored it and accepted that his mother was like that and moved forward without necessarily moving on. When June came he would have to confront those demons again, since this year his parents might also be present. Then again, they were the ones who sent him the prepaid train ticket to the cemetery and might not plan their visit to coincide with his. That was fine by him, because Gii had mentioned wanting to accompany him this year and he wasn't ready for that confrontation.

The protectiveness in his lover's eyes was evident whenever the subject came up during the limited time they spent together. His mother's words, though not new by any means, had hurt him and Gii was only being the support Takumi never received, so he smiled warmly at the sight. Whenever the first years' rumors surfaced again a similar look overcame him, though it was not so bad now. Some of the ones from simple backgrounds like Takumi's even went to their sempai for advice or help. That was how things should be.

Not like this hostility that surrounded him outside the safe confines of his friends' presences. Takumi was walking down the familiar path to the main building when he heard the footsteps behind him, which were not too suspicious in school. It was his paranoia lately that made him glance over his shoulder to find a group of students he knew weren't fond of him. In fact, they were the ones who fabricated the rumors the other students spread. Sometimes having people like Akaike as friends had its benefits, though Takumi wasn't sure where this information got him other than clarity.

Some unfamiliar voice called out his name. Takumi had half a mind to ignore then and keep walking except a light hand caught him in his tracks. Whereas before he met Gii he might have reacted almost violently to that, now the touch was just an annoyance he brushed off as he turned and came to a halt. Though there was a scowl on his face he wasn't sure how intimidating he seemed, judging by the more pleasant masks the other students wore. There were about five of them, and Takumi found himself shocked to see the boy he'd talked to in the dance room before break.

He couldn't quite recall his name, but remembered that the second year Nishimura had asked Takumi to meet with him. Maybe his talk and the boy's own consciousness hadn't been enough to sway him the right way. Takumi held his ground despite the odd numbers. He stood convinced that in a classy private high school like this one the students knew the consequences of violence and violation of respect for their sempai. More hurtful words were what they would spout and Takumi had had quite enough of it. A small tingle of fear dwelled in his heart, but he didn't allow it to consume him- not this time.

"Do you need something?" Takumi asked politely first. It wasn't in his nature to confront and provoke people. The first years exchanged flat glances and stepped forward together. The boy he'd talked to remained unobtrusive in the background, as if he didn't quite belong. Unlike the others he didn't lift his head and give Takumi a haughty glare, but he didn't move to stop them either. "I'll be late to class. You'll be late and get in trouble, too."

"It won't take long, Hayama Takumi-_san_," one said just short of a sneer. Takumi almost backed away a step. They were being terribly disrespectful and it worried him more than he'd liked to admit. "We just want to know what your intentions about Saki-sempai are. Just harmless questions from first years won't bother you, right? After all, Saki-sempai seems to be the closest to Hayama-san."

"I don't have any _intentions-_" Takumi began, not liking the way the boy said things. He didn't get to finish as another took off where the last stopped. He looked between them and each looked as if they really _were_ asking innocent questions regarding the famed student of their school. Their intentions were not so double-faced and never had been since the beginning of the year. Takumi didn't understand why people like these were so nasty with their jealousy and eagerness to impress. Gii and his friends who also came from riches weren't like this.

"But we think you do, after all why would Saki-sempai have a boyfriend who's like _you_ when he can surround himself with people with influence? In fact, he does have friends whose families own businesses you seem to be the only difference. What makes you so special?" The obviously disguised oblivion made Takumi inwardly wince. Sometimes he had wondered that himself during the night. Even now he didn't understand what Gii saw in the person he had been as a first and second year. He was cold, taciturn, and from a poorer family, everything Gii was not. But he had gone through such lengths to become his boyfriend and lover anyways, even when he couldn't even touch Takumi.

"I think, when you understand love, you'll answer your question," Takumi said. It unsettled the boys, but overall made them irritable. Of course, some of them might never really understand what Takumi was talking about. After all, some families still arranged marriages but Takumi didn't necessarily mean it in that context. Friends also applied to that. He steeled himself to turn away though it made him self-conscious and he tried to assume the role of an upperclassman again. "We should all get to class before the teachers give us a detention."

"Well _we_ think you're just using him for money and taking advantage of his pity for someone poorer! _Right_, Oshiro?" The last emphasis threw Takumi off balance enough that he glanced over his shoulder to see what the influx of the first year's voice had meant. It suddenly struck him that Oshiro was the surname of the boy Nishimura had asked him to talk to, the one who'd had his doubts about the rumors. The boy shifted uncomfortably and cast an unreadable glance towards Takumi before backing away.

"No, I don't think so," he said quietly, as if he were apprehensive of speaking at all. He'd clenched one fist at his side, the other in a loose grip on his uniform. The black arm brace was still covering his injured hand, the same one he'd been playing with in the dance room. The words seemed hard to force from his throat. Takumi had felt that same choking up on words before, if for a different reason. "I don't know much about love, but people who are using each other don't look that happy together."

There might have been a hostile exchange of words if the warning bell hadn't chimed. Everyone still outside instantly scrambled for the buildings before they were late, the first years and Takumi included. Before they'd all dispersed however, Takumi called out to Oshiro a "thank you" and started a brisk jog to make it inside on time. He didn't stop to see how the boy reacted, but he hoped that he hadn't made too much trouble for himself. The last thing Takumi wanted was for someone to suffer on his behalf, especially someone he didn't even know.

Later that day during his math class Takumi was unexpectedly distracted, which was a rare occurrence seeing as math was his favorite subject. His thoughts wandered no matter how hard he tried to listen to the teacher's lesson and the numbers and graphs on his notebook weren't making much sense anymore. His fingers slipped on his calculator three times before he managed to punch in the right functions. Akaike had this class with him, and though he was across the room he seemed to notice Takumi's state. Even the teacher had asked him if anything was bothering him today.

He had never been so glad to hear the bell ring during this class and quickly gathered up his things as Akaike made his way over. There was only a science class to sit through after lunch break before he could be released for the day and today there wasn't any taxing work, gratefully. It had been awhile since they had such a slow day in his physics class. It meant more bookwork, but Takumi knew how to do those problems. If he couldn't concentrate there either, he could always complete it tonight. As it was, he would have to take another hour to make sure he taught himself this lesson well.

"Did something happen, Takumi?" Akaike asked as they walked out of the room together. Takumi tossed his bag over his shoulder and shrugged. The confrontation hadn't seemed that bad if he thought about it, but somehow it bothered him. There was nothing else he'd done today that could distract him like this.

"Some of the first years wanted to talk to me before," he admitted, hastily waving his hands in front of his face to clear the suspicious look Akaike had taken on. "It's fine, really. They said some pretty bad things, but…it's nothing we haven't heard before. And one of them even spoke out against it, you know that boy you were talking to me about…Oshiro-kun, was it? I guess it's just been bothering me a bit, that people still think like that about Gii and I…You don't have to tell him about it though; you two are busy enough as it is."

"You should tell him yourself," Akaike amended with a shake of his head as they started down the stairs. The cafeteria was in another building and some of the students had their lunches at the same time depending on their schedule. The students in their homeroom had all opted for a similar coursework, so they shared the same breaks, Akaike included. "He'll want to know. Are you sure they didn't do anything bad? If there are two of you to testify, they can be reported after all."

"That's not necessary. I doubt they'll stop anyways. But I'll tell Gii about it," Takumi promised. Akaike nodded, but he had a feeling that he would find those first years anyways. The school didn't tolerate bullying, especially since students came from such vast socioeconomic backgrounds. The rich had to learn that they couldn't get away with everything just because they had money and connections. That was the beauty of Shidou in modern times. Takumi had only applied for the isolation, however. The farthest place away from his parents was the best.

Lunch and the rest of the day passed by better than math class had. After he'd taught himself that lesson and reviewed the normal material as well, Takumi made some time to stop by Gii's room. He'd gotten through the worst and most mandatory of the assignments and studying, so he figured he could sacrifice a few minutes to visit his boyfriend. Even with his busy schedule Gii stopped by every now and again, though he suspected that Misu was the reason he didn't come more often. It was fine, though; in Gii's room they had privacy.

Takumi knocked and waited a moment while Gii shuffled to the door. When it opened, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend with a happy smile. Gii returned the gesture with one arm as he stepped backwards and closed the door. After that fiasco in the beginning of the year, he never deprived Takumi of affection in such a cruel manner. In the rare moments when Gii wasn't feeling up to it, he gently told Takumi so with a disarming smile that made up for the physical contact.

"You've been studying? You're eating properly?" Gii said lightly as they sat beside each other on the bed. Takumi laughed and waved off his concern with a nod of confirmation. He asked the same questions of Gii and scolded him when there was a hesitation in his voice. It had become routine, this exchange of worries and inquiries while they sat in each others' company. Tonight Takumi had a different reason for being here other than just a break from his books. Gii wouldn't like it, but he'd promised Akaike that he'd tell his boyfriend about that confrontation.

"I'm serious, it wasn't a big deal," Takumi tried to reassure him when Gii's good-humored face turned stern and slightly angry. The first years' actions and Gii's lack of intervention in the beginning of the year heightened his sense of devotion and protectiveness towards Takumi. It was only natural, but hard to dissuade him from that path. "Akaike-kun just thought it'd be better if I told you. Don't worry; I'm sure he'll take care of it."

"I just worry sometimes. You're not used to their games," Gii said as his face relaxed and his smile returned. With one arm he brought Takumi closer in an embrace and let him rest his head on his shoulder. They stayed like that for awhile, not looking at the clock or the stacks of books but at each others' hands entwined together. It was a peaceful freedom away from the pressures of studying for entrance exams and upcoming tests that couldn't last forever. As third years they had no other chances; at the end of the school year they would take the exams and wait to see if they were accepted into the best universities.

That reminded Takumi of the sickening reality ahead of him. They might not go to the same university and they lived far away. Swallowing a thick clump in his throat a few times, he finally managed to ask Gii about it- about which university he was aiming for. Takumi hadn't thought too much about that, never having received the same pressure from home that the other students had. People like Gii had even more options, including the private universities throughout Japan. They had the money, so scholarships weren't the end-all, be-all. But rich or not, everyone had to pass the exams with flying colors.

"I'll probably stay somewhere in Tokyo and major in business," Gii answered immediately, probably already aware of where he was going because of his parents. Takumi nodded and wondered if his boyfriend wanted to go to Todai, which everyone talked about getting into at some point. He even knew which major he wanted, which was more than what Takumi had in mind. Gii, having noticed his silence asked, "Where does Takumi want to go?"

He shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it. All I know is that I want to stay away from home. Beyond that, I don't even know what I want to major in." Of course, Takumi knew that he was never going to study Japanese literature, which took him along the more logical paths of mathematics and science. "But studying in Tokyo would be nice- if I can get in. Todai's entrance exam is what we study to prepare for the worst, after all. And the money…"

"If you need it, I'll lend you money to go to school," Gii insisted before Takumi could continue. The honest look in his eyes was reminiscent of the days when they had been 'lovers' without even kissing each other. Takumi smiled, but shook his head. He couldn't rely on Gii forever, even if his boyfriend's family probably had more money than they knew what to do with. "If it's the cost of living there that's bothering you, at the very least live with me if you want to go somewhere in Tokyo. My father wants me to apply for Todai and Keio, among others. I might even study abroad for a few years."

"You'd do that?" Takumi really should not have been surprised and his lover's amused face showed that. Of course Gii would want to live with him. Just being apart in their last year of high school was torture for them. To be separated by miles and universities was unthinkable after all they'd gone through.

"What kind of question is that?" Gii teased him with light peck on the lips. With a tender touch, he drew his head closer until they met and melted into each others' embraces and mouths. Talk of universities and colleges and responsibilities could wait for now.

* * *

><p>Souta was mentally screaming at his foolish, impulsive sense of justice that decided it wanted to exist now of all times. The whole reason why he trailed in Soreshi's shadow was so that something like this <em>wouldn't<em> happen again. Being the only Japanese person who couldn't write simple elementary kanji was tormenting enough without being the righteous jerk in their eyes. But his mouth had spoken for his heart instead and defended that third year because no one had been there to help Souta when he was that defensive and cornered. What his mind knew was safe had nothing to do with it-

-which was the reason why he hadn't returned to his dorm even though it was rather late and he was exhausted and _still_ had more things to cram for. Soreshi knew he had access to the dance studios but didn't know that Nishimura had given Souta the key. So here he was in the pitch black room curled up against the mirrored wall, too afraid to admit that he was afraid to leave. Of course, logically Soreshi couldn't do much more than mentally torment him; after all in Shidou the rules were stricter. That didn't stop his mind from preparing for a physical assault.

In fact, the key clutched in his hand had passed the point of uncomfortable and almost broke his skin. Souta wasn't self-destructive though and eased off the pressure enough so that he didn't start bleeding. It still hurt terribly, but he wanted something to focus on besides the nauseous anxiety. Some habits die hard, including the urge to run away from unpleasant things. Souta wondered if his words were even worth it. If they got into trouble they would rope him into it, wouldn't they? Souta had spread those painful words that made Hayama cringe, and for what?

A sentence or two didn't make up for a string of wrongdoings. And if he got in trouble because of it, then maybe he deserved it. It was he who should understand that pain the best, and it was he who had willingly ignored it anyways. Aaron would scold him for a week if he were here, but he wasn't- and Souta found himself falling apart without the boy who'd practically raised him. He tried to be strong, but it was hard without a single friend. Nishimura was an ally, one who always seemed engrossed in his own world to give any conversation proper attention, not a friend.

And that wasn't anyone else's fault. Souta took one deep breath, loosened his death grip on the key, and stood on shaky legs. It was time to end this self-pity and pick his weak body up and move _on_. Running never accomplished much. That was one thing he learned from Aaron that the older boy hadn't meant to teach him. Souta forced his feet away from the corner and towards the door, shuffling along carefully so he wouldn't trip. Maybe a confrontation with Soreshi wouldn't end well, but he should at least try.

The heavy doors groaned as he pushed his weight against them and into the night air. It was growing warmer as the days passed, away from the leftover chills of winter towards spring and summer. Souta grimaced; he hated warm weather with a passion. It always rendered him too lazy and uncomfortable to do much of anything, even dance. Not that he would do much dancing this year with this wrist of his, but it still bothered him, especially the humidity. In the thick of it, he could hardly breathe. This cool air was much better for any activity in his eyes.

Outside he caught a glimpse of a shadow passing and jerked as he locked the doors to the studio. His puffs of breath came faster as his eyes strained to see through the inky blackness. On instinct his body remained stiff to avoid making any obtrusive noises. A thick panic rose in his throat, irrational but there all the same. Souta didn't really like the dark, especially as a child. After that accident he'd been terrified to sleep and became hysterical no matter which house he was currently residing in. Over the years his fear had dissipated into mere paranoia.

"You look like you're going to have a heart attack," said a familiar voice nearby. Souta started and swung around to face Nishimura's slightly taller frame. His death grip on the handles loosened as he allowed his hand to drop to his side. Unsteady breaths were still coming from his mouth, but he was more annoyed than frightened now. Shoving the old fear behind irritation and anger wasn't a good way to make it disappear, but it was effective. His sempai laughed lightly and directed him back in the direction of the dorms, am arm tossed over his shoulder as if they were friends.

"I thought I'd find you here. Your roommate didn't seem too worried when I asked. You're afraid of the dark?" That last sentence was teasing and meant to lighten the tense mood, though it didn't exactly work as planned. Souta shrugged for an answer as he squirmed out from underneath Nishimura's hold. Being held down like that made him feel like a kid all over again. And he was only shorter by an inch or so.

"He doesn't really like me right now." Souta offered no further explanation, satisfied that he alone knew of what he'd done today. Bragging to Nishimura might make him seem like a jerk and he really didn't need any more conflict tonight. The second year didn't respond anyways as they walked along the abandoned paths to the dorms. Then he remembered that the older boy didn't usually want him just to talk or tease him. In a quiet voice suited to the surroundings he asked, "Why were you looking for me anyways?"

"You did what I asked," Nishimura responded. At Souta's blank stare through the darkness and his silence the second year went on to elaborate. "You finally stood up for what was right instead of what was easy. But it isn't over yet. The others still feel the way they were raised to be and don't know any better. They _won't_ know any better until someone shows them. So I'm proud of you. You listened, even though it probably wasn't easy to say those things to your roommate and his friends."

"…You're wrong," Souta said in a low voice after a moment's thought. He was starting to see what Nishimura meant in being nice around him and gently pushing these conversations his way. He wasn't sure he liked them any more than he did Soreshi's rumors. "It wasn't hard at all. I said it without thinking. What's hard is dealing with it afterwards. To tell the truth…someone very dear to me went through something similar. But even up until now I can't do or say anything that will make it better."

"So that was a substitute?" Nishimura mused as they entered the dormitories. Souta shrugged again and fumbled with his arm brace again. The skin underneath was itchy and irritated. He had forgotten to smear that cream on it this morning and the friction had been bothering him all day. It would be rude to leave without his senior giving him permission first, though. Nishimura motioned them over to the couches on the bottom floor where a few students still mingled. Some were using the phones, others studying in the vicinity.

"What's wrong?" he asked absently, grabbing his wrist before Souta had a chance to object. He panicked and tried to pull away on instinct, feeling acute streaks of pain travel up his arm. Nishimura's brows furrowed in confusion and his grip loosened, but he didn't release him. Of course there was nothing obstructing him from taking the brace off. Velcro secured the material and Souta didn't like wrapping the area in bandages beforehand. "Can I take this off? The captain's been wondering about it, too in fact…"

"You can't," Souta tried to protest. But Nishimura was stronger even if he didn't seem like it and Souta was in no hurry to wrestle his own arm away from the older boy. The black brace slipped off, revealing slightly reddened skin beneath and an ugly, fresh scar easily two inches long. The raised wound burned under Nishimura's shocked touch, even though he was gentle. Souta scowled immediately and pried his senior's hands away while they were slack. He hadn't wanted to give people another reason to look at him strangely, as if not being able to read kanji wasn't enough humiliation.

He didn't want to see whatever expression Nishimura had on his face. Back home he'd gotten enough of those pitiful looks and well-wishes to be sick of them now. He sighed and replaced the brace so other students wouldn't see and leaned back against the couch. "The doctor said I'll be able to fully dance by the end of the year. I just got the stitches out during Golden Week, so they're still a little tender. I didn't really want anyone to know about it. It's my own problem, you know?"

"How did that happen? You weren't-"

"I didn't hurt myself. It was an accident, I was arguing with my foster parents. We were fighting over the kitchen knife when it slipped." Souta scowled again, having already gotten that question directed at him in years previous by the school nurse. Coming from a fellow student, it wasn't as awkward or defensive but still irritating. The thought of slicing his own skin open made him cringe. Anything gory like that wasn't his cup of tea. He didn't know why anyone would want to hurt themselves like that. "It was stupid. I don't even remember what we were arguing about."

Of course Souta didn't tell him that dinner hadn't played a very big role in the event or what they'd been arguing about, but it didn't seem important enough to tell him. At least, Nishimura didn't need to know anything more about his private life than he was willing to share.

"If you'd excuse me, I have to study." Souta said, bowing his head briefly as he fled up the stairs. Right now seemed like a good time to talk to Soreshi, if only to escape his sempai's scrutiny.

"_When a good man is hurt all who would be called good must suffer with him._" (Euripides)

* * *

><p>• Somewhat of a slow chapter, but things can't always be full of drama. Back to school and studying, which in Japan is vigorous. Entrance exams are terribly important and apparently students need to have an idea of what major they want when they enter college, to enter into an undergraduate program. Both Todai and Keio are some of the top universities in Japan. Todai is the shortened name of Tokyo University and I think Keio is also located in the Tokyo area.<p>

• Souta needs to be happier. xD Truthfully, he doesn't have much to be happy about in Japan. Don't worry, he'll cheer up soon. And not even I know if that was really an accident or not. These things tend to write themselves. On another note, he was afraid of the dark because his parents died at night in a car accident. It would traumatize anyone, and he was about eight at the time. Whether or not he's really over it is up to you.

• Look out for another Takumi-kun series fic I will be posting soon! It will play an important part in this story a little later on.


	6. An Interlude of Summer Tension

_**What We Were, What We Want to Be**_

_**Chapter Six,**__ an Interlude of Summer Tension_

May testing was history, done and gone in the minds of the students preparing for new assignments and responsibilities. Before Takumi had a chance to blink, June was upon Shidou once more and with it the heat of the summery days, an overall excitement and vitality that had been absent in the lazy, thawing months of spring. For Takumi this meant nothing sort of dreadful, pain-filled memories and a worried anxiety so completely different from the rest of the student population. Only one person fully understood the tense, preoccupied expression that plagued his face nowadays.

Gii said nothing when a train ticket arrived in the mail. He wrapped one strong arm around Takumi's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder- reassuring, saying without words that it was alright, he loved him no differently a year later. When his hands began to tremble, tiny wrinkles creeping over the paper where his fingers tightened too much, Gii's hand steadied him in a firm grip. They were dry, free of calluses and incredibly aware of what made Takumi weak in his knees and absolutely at peace.

No, if he thought about how Gii almost always knew what would make him happy, he had to say that their love _had_ changed this past year. It had suffered, almost shattered, and mended into something stronger than before. They were no longer awkward, sometimes impulsive teenagers fumbling about with the concept of love and wondering, hoping something good might come of it.

Today they were almost adults loving and learning the consequences and benefits of it. Today they battled societal and parental expectations, determined to love each other for as long as that love lasted, no matter what anyone said. Takumi relaxed against his boyfriend's back and breathed a soft sigh. So much had changed about him, as everyone liked to point out. Even his resolve to keep away everyone who might hurt him had dissipated into caring and worrying over his friends and lover. Even his resolve to never see his brother's grave, to never forgive what he'd done, had melted.

The date printed on that paper- 6月14日- June 14th, still brought mixed feelings and a certain anxiety as the days folded into one another. Within the week Takumi would be on the train taking students away from Shidou to his hometown. He might very well see his parents, although he still hoped that they would choose to visit the following day, the fifteenth, and the actual date of his brother's death. Running away was not an option, especially not after that conversation he'd had with his mother during Golden Week.

Because of that conversation, she might make a point to visit at the same time as Takumi. He couldn't lie and say that it would result in peace or a resolution to their conflict. The only reason he had doubts now was because he knew his mother and wasn't sure that he could handle her on such an emotional day. He squeezed his eyes shut, hands tightening on the ticket, sinking further against Gii's firm chest and unconsciously curling in on himself. A voice broke his thoughts, Gii's familiar voice full of concern at his sudden change in mood.

"I'm okay. It's just- my mother will be there and you remember what happened during Golden Week and…" Takumi paused. And he had to learn to smile and pretend around his own mother before he caused himself more harm than good. When he wavered she sensed his uncertainty and pounced on it with the viciousness of a starved dog. She tore it apart ruthlessly, perhaps believing she could be happier and achieve her closure through his hurt and tears.

After this year he could choose whichever time he wanted to visit his brother and ignore his parents. If he took out loans and worked he wouldn't have to rely on them when he went to university- and he knew Gii would help no matter how much he protested. He could kneel in the quiet, eerie tranquility among the graves without interruption and accusations. He could bring Gii if his boyfriend wanted to come. Takumi loosened his grip on the ticket and slowly placed it on the nightstand. There was no reason Gii couldn't accompany him this year, actually.

With his mother there, maybe he needed that support that had pulled him through his roughest times here- if Gii wanted to come. He tentatively asked the question, unsure of himself again and too embarrassed to face his lover. Something personal like this shouldn't be something to burden his friends with- except Gii was a little _more_ than a friend. His hands fumbled together, one still trapped underneath Gii's grasp.

If his mother saw their hands entwined like this, she'd have something to say about it. Maybe he wanted her to say something about it- about his happiness. Nothing except for his brother's affections had ever made him so happy to be alive and even that had been spoiled before Takumi was old enough to understand much of anything. They were both boys so his mother would protest, but then again Takumi sincerely doubted that her response would be much different if he'd been dating a girl. Things like happiness and sadness and companionship were subjective.

The resulting days were also history. They were stressful, confusing, and nothing short of the drama that seemed to follow their little group of mismatched friends like the plague. Well, they were only so mismatched because of the difference in social class and Misu's blatant dislike of Gii. At least those two had reached some state of mutual understanding and compromise. Either way, everything had somehow worked out alright and the fourteenth of the month hung in the sky as the train rolled away from the mountains and back into civilization.

This time there were no conflicting, anxious thoughts to cloud his mind during the trip. Instead there was a deep calm and the warm beat of his love's heart near his ear. Cooling air blew against their faces, Gii's previously flushed cheeks already back to their former color. The summer heat was strong today. No rain, not like the day his brother had passed away. Takumi's eyes fluttered closed, content and free of any violent twisting in his stomach or chest.

A day away from the pressures of school and the unwanted attention lavished over Gii was nice. The first years gave him a wide berth whenever his friends were in the vicinity, but they still tried to confront him, sometimes asking for favors in the most innocent voices they could manage. Sometimes they skipped the feint altogether and sneered at him in entirely inappropriate ways. He hadn't seen much of that first year Nishimura often hung around since the day he stood up to them for Takumi. He did appreciate the gesture, however small.

Even those conflicts were better with his friends' support behind him, regardless of whether or not they were there in person. That was why Takumi could sit on this train without agonizing over his parents' reactions. They were his _parents_ so he held a certain amount of respect for them still, no matter how much Gii tried to convince him otherwise. Now he just had the courage to say more than half-lies and breathe freely around them. Whatever his mother said was superficial- Takumi had accepted that she wasn't right in the head a long time ago.

All that was left was the waiting. Once this train arrived in Tokyo, they had to switch and board the one that would end their journey in Shizuoka- then take the bus or a cab to the cemetery. As Takumi drifted away, he wondered if the lady from the mental hospital would be there. She had been the one to see his brother through his therapy, the one to listen to a twisted mind with a smile and still mourn his death. And Takumi respected her for that.

* * *

><p>Nishimura had been trailing him ever since that night in the common room.<p>

When he managed to corner him or otherwise call across a room or down the hallway, he apologized. Then there were the times when he acted clueless as to why Souta adamantly ignored him at every turn, and the occasional spark of irritation at being treated as a shadow. Nishimura was persistent and as stubborn as Souta in some respects. Just because he acknowledged that didn't mean he was ready to accept whatever came from his sempai's mouth any time soon. Souta no longer trusted that the second year had the best intentions for him.

Nishimura must still have been apologizing for forcibly removing his wrist brace that night because that was all he mentioned. To tell the truth, the scar didn't concern him anymore. He found it an almost embarrassing blemish, but could care less as to who knew about it. Soreshi had seen him bandage the wound even before the grotesque stitches had been removed, so more than likely his group of freshmen friends had known for weeks. Let them speculate, he thought. No one here needed to know the full truth.

Speaking of which, his roommate had been less than happy that night. Since then, he'd been vindictive in such a roundabout way that Souta hadn't even acknowledged it as a problem for days. He never laid a hand on him, never threatened his family or friends, and didn't even steal his belongings. Of course, there were reasons for that. The school didn't tolerate violence. Soreshi didn't know who Souta's friends were in the States and knew so little about them that using them as weapons would backfire. He didn't care about his wealthy family or of tarnishing their image. And they were roommates, so it wasn't like they could hide each other's stuff for long.

"Oshiro-kun," a familiar voice called. Souta squeezed his books closer to his chest, straightened his posture, and made a conscious effort to lift his feet as the main building drew into sight. Aaron teased him about how he preformed the most complicated footwork for the sake of his dances, but always dragged his feet and stumbled wherever he went. Souta hadn't spoken to him in awhile due to complications in time zones and the difference had begun to wear on his confidence and nerves, mainly concerning the incessant man in his shadow. He didn't even bother retorting to the occasional sneer after Soreshi's little hissy-fit.

"Please stop being mad at me. I'm sorry; I didn't know it mattered that much to you. But can't you understand that I just really wanted to help them? They don't deserve any of this crap," Nishimura said, his voice almost right behind Souta. He didn't care how many times the sophomore apologized, nothing would change his intentions. He wasn't about to be so foolishly forgiving that he ended up hurting himself. All he had to do was ignore the older boy and he'd _eventually _leave. Eventually was not soon enough. "Are you _listening_ to me? _Please_ stop ignoring me."

The second year's tone turned from pleading to sharp and clearly irritated. A sudden pressure against his shoulder unbalanced him so that he had to turn to right himself, leaving more than enough space for Nishimura to grab his arms. Souta cast him a resentful glare, unable to do much more than twist and squirm in vain as the older boy shuffled then away from the straggling students entering the main building. Today was Sunday, so there weren't many people around and hardly anyone was in a rush.

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don't _want_ to be used?" Souta snapped, shrugging off the second year's hands. He smoothed a stray piece of hair away from his eyes and readjusted his books. Nerves made his hands twitchy and restless, one reason why he never expected his audition to the talent agency to go well.

Nishimura shook his head and retreated a few steps, probably expecting him to snap and lash out to strike him. It wouldn't be the first time. "I'm not trying to- do you have a problem with Saki-sempai and Hayama-sempai? If you do, I wouldn't have asked but-"

"I don't. I've never even met Saki-sempai before," Souta pointed out with a frown. He'd heard plenty about the guy and seen him often enough, but really knew nothing noteworthy about him. Nishimura cast him a curious look, as if he truly didn't understand where this hostility was from. Souta curled his hands around the notebooks in his hands, the metal spirals digging painful grooves into his skin. "My problem is that you're asking me to give up so much for people I don't know without telling me a thing! You're not my friend. Even if they were nobodies, if you were my friend I'd help, but not like this."

The second year crossed his arms as if he were scolding a misbehaving child. The expression on his face was not quite one of anger or irritation yet. Half the problem was that Souta could never figure out what his sempai was thinking. The older boy took a few steps forward, seemingly over his fear of being hit. Souta frowned; while he might not be the strongest, toughest kid, he could throw a nasty punch if provoked enough. He hadn't walked in Aaron's footsteps and attended those martial arts classes as per request these eight years for nothing.

"Are you _sure_ it's not because they're gay? I know people are more concerned about status here, but they still say nasty things about them and I _know_ I heard you a few times…"

"_**God damn it**_, my best friend is gay, it's not that! I don't care about that, I don't think it's disgusting and…and…" Souta trailed off when he realized that their argument hadn't gone unnoticed. His face burned in shame and mortification when he peered past Nishimura to see a thin crowd of students gathered around. A hot wave of revulsion washed through his body and he backed away as close to the stone walls as he could manage before the bushes snared at his legs. He hadn't been this embarrassed since that first day of elementary school under the other eight year olds' judgmental eyes.

Ignoring the strange looks from his choice of swears in English or the obvious accent that emerged from his anger was easy. But he could _never_ ignore the irrationality that had revealed his friend's deepest secret, one Aaron had entrusted to him when his own best friend stared at him in disgust. True, hardly anyone knew about Aaron, let alone _knew_ him as Souta had come to know the twenty-one year old. The chances that they would find him among everyone else named Aaron in America were slim. They would never meet. That wasn't the _point_.

The point was that he'd blurted such an important secret because of his irritation in a stupid, pointless argument. Nishimura's intentions had been pure for the people who truly did not deserve the abuse they were suffering now, if his methods were not. Souta might have given in later on anyways.

His sempai inched forward with his hands held harmlessly before him, as if he were confronting a startled animal. "Souta-kun?" he called. He glimpsed behind the second year and found that as expected, a large group of freshmen had gathered. There was a third year too, someone from the Student Council.

Souta shook his head, shoved his shame down his throat, and forced his feet to move as he had always done. No matter how much he wanted to scream that it wasn't fair when the older boy had been using him all along, it wasn't entirely Nishimura's fault for wanting to do something good. All the things Souta had learnt over the years, all of those lessons he promised never to forget, he had thrown away for a silly shouting match.

He wasn't a child anymore. He had to wipe his tears and move on or allow those swarming, ravenous emotions to devour him. There was no business in hatred and bitterness. But because he was human these emotions were natural and it was alright, healthy even, to release those feelings on occasion. And if there were no friends in sight, it was safer to cry and wallow in misery alone until the depression passed. _Don't stop,_ he told himself,_ if you stop you'll never want to get back on again._

Aaron's best friend Ryan had told him that a long time ago. They had been riding horses at a summer camp, one of the ones Aaron volunteered at before his life got crazy, and Souta had fallen off. The collision against packed earth had jarred his preexisting bruises and brought angry tears to his eyes. Ryan lifted him off the ground and tossed him back in the saddle before he even got his wind back. "_If you don't, you'll be afraid of them forever. This little pony isn't scary, is he? He just tripped. You trip all the time, don't you?_"

Ryan had never been his favorite person. He'd almost forgotten those words altogether, but he supposed that being so far away from home made him miss everyone, Ryan included.

Souta controlled himself the entire way through the dorms, never pausing to see if anyone might have followed him. He was sure Nishimura would come pound at the door later. Maybe Soreshi would just tell him to go away, stop being a nuisance, stop interrupting his studies. Souta didn't really want to talk to anyone right now, just in case he said something else he'd regret. But he would have to call Aaron later, regardless of the fact that he could ignore this entire thing. There was a high possibility that his friend would never be the wiser, but he would rather suffer through a scolding and a lecture than suffer through his conscious.

He fumbled with the key in the lock, opened the door after a few tries, yanked the key out, and tossed his books on his desk. The spirals skittered across the neat surface and one slipped to the floor, but he left it alone. No matter how many kanji he swore to learn today, nothing was getting done anymore. He locked the door again and kicked off his shoes, shrugged out of his jacket that made him far too hot under the June sun. Souta was a creature of habit, no amount of stress was going to stop him from completing his routines. He moved through them without thought- one motion after the next.

Then he threw himself on the bed and screamed into the pillow until his throat was pure fire and coughs emerged from the pain. When the burn dulled to mild irritation he pressed one cheek against the cool fabric and gripped the sheets so tight he was subconsciously afraid that he might tear them. Living under the influence of everyone at home through countless experiences, he'd grown to believe that it wasn't hard to be happy. Though it wasn't hard to become sad either, happiness was obtainable through the smallest, sometimes mundane things- a simple breeze, a smile, a word.

Even when he had his days when life didn't seem worth the effort, when his friends were in the most unfair, cruelest moments of their lives, they had the occasional smile for each other. Even with his face mottled with bruises and little tears of blood dribbling from his chin, Aaron had found a smile when Ryan helped him to his feet. Souta remembered that day clearly. Ryan hadn't smiled, had barely looked at Aaron in months. He left as soon as his car was no longer needed, but he came and that made all the difference.

Then why couldn't he live up to that belief? These days it was so hard to find something to smile a true smile at. He didn't want to be miserable. He hated self-pity; he'd had enough of it these eight years. He lifted his head from the pillow, cheeks stained with tears and his eyes watery and tired. Someone was unlocking the door and he dropped his head again. Maybe Soreshi would just leave him well enough alone if he feigned sleep. Then again, sleep didn't sound too bad at the moment.

The door clicked shut. Feet stopped at his bed and didn't move for a time. Souta groaned and twisted his body until he faced not Soreshi, but the one person he really didn't want see right now. He reluctantly sat up and wiped the mess from his face. Soreshi didn't have reason to be fond of him but he hadn't expected the guy to let Nishimura in their room like this. There was no other way he could have gotten a key. The dorm head surely didn't give it to him.

"Look, it's not like I don't want to help them. What I said, I'm not proud of it… I was never mad at you for looking at my scar. I just don't…don't like being used for things," he ended lamely. For obvious reasons he was never a genius at stringing his words together like his friends. In Japanese his confidence waned. He agonized over whether or not his tenses were correct, if the word order was awkward or backwards altogether, if he could remember which word meant what. He still had a childish vocabulary. He thought in English most of the time and had to pause and translate some of his responses.

Nishimura inclined his head in understanding and pulled over the chair from his desk. They were both calmer now. But he still didn't breathe a word and Souta groped for something to say to break the silence. He was embarrassed again for an entirely different reason. Nishimura hardly knew him and here he was ripping the truth out left and right.

"I don't like…Well, my 'other' parents were always looking for something when they took me in," he said, struggling with the personal facts he had to reveal in order to salvage something from this. If he selfishly kept on complaining they wouldn't come to a conclusion. Someone had to compromise, even if that person was him with his awkward phrasing. "They kept the child welfare money for themselves. My real family doesn't want me to find them years for now and accuse them of abandoning me. So I don't really like just being dragged around here and there. I guess no one likes being-"

"Shut up for a minute," Nishimura said suddenly. Souta blinked in surprise and stopped, perfectly content with the order because his throat was still burning. His sempai had not been cruel when he said it. He stood and walked the length of the room, running a hand through his hair as he fought with the words behind his mouth. Souta smoothed the rumpled sheets over his legs and supposed he'd just been a child for that outburst. He hated containing everything when he would normally have talked someone's ears off back home. When he returned to his relatives' house he never said anything more than "hello", "good morning", "good night", or something to that effect.

"Nishimura-san…" Souta said after awhile. The older boy had stopped and stood beside the bed again. He still had no idea as to what the second year wanted to say. It certainly wasn't to apologize. No matter how much pride he might have had, Souta doubted that it took ten minutes to spit out when earlier he'd been throwing those words around with ease. The clock was ticking and he _really_ did not want Soreshi to walk in before they resolved whatever this was between them. "I-"

"I'm sorry. For making you do all that before I even knew you," he said shortly, but Souta was sure that those words weren't what he'd been agonizing over. He exhaled a heavy breath, impatient and showing it through his crossed arms. Nishimura knew it too. Souta would forgive him not because he liked to avoid conflict but because good had come from it. In whatever small way, confronting Soreshi had helped the third years who were strangers to him. He could let his anger go, if only because of that.

"Then…what…" Souta paused as the second year sat back down on the chair.

"I've been thinking that it'll only be a stupid thing to do. I'll regret it. We don't really know each other at all. All we have in common is that we dance and different styles at that. You almost never dance in a group; group dancing is all I've ever known. You like to pull stunts when you dance and I-"

"Wait," Souta said, "how do you know that? I've never… I can't dance like that now but..." It didn't make sense for a moment. Sometimes he deviated from staying purely on his feet, straying to different styles like break dancing, but the doctor had banned him from that activity until his wrist healed. "Could it be…that you watched that video I submitted to the talent agency to clear the prelims?"

Nishimura nodded. _Well,_ he thought in bewilderment, _I never thought anyone would find that old thing._ This still left him clueless as to why Nishimura had brought the topic up. "So what-"

"So I like you. Even if you're stubborn and a pain sometimes, and I don't know much at all about you and you're not exactly happy with me at the moment and maybe all this talk of love is getting to me but…" Souta's brain did not stop working as some people liked to describe these moments. His worked in overdrive, wondering, twisting around every interaction they'd had together and trying to figure it out. Nishimura had never commented on his accent or knowledge in kanji- that was all he could think of that might have suggested something.

He even considered for a moment that maybe the sophomore didn't mean it in that sense, but that wasn't true. He'd almost forgotten by now that the Japanese didn't throw around words like "love" so easily. For a confession, "like" was enough. If the relationship went something deeper, to the point of lovers, they could say "I love you". That was speaking hypothetically, of course. Souta didn't know why he was even considering such a thing. He just wanted to go home and roam a place where he knew how to act, where he could deal with his friends' love lives instead of his own.

It came as second thought that Nishimura was probably agonizing over his silence. Souta fumbled for something to say, but the older boy beat him to it.

"I want to try. I want to try to make up for that at the beginning. I wasn't really thinking you'd mind because I didn't know you. But I saw that you really seem miserable here," Nishimura said, ducking his head so that his hair hid his embarrassment and anxiety. Souta knew that it was his way of saying "I want to make you happy". He was used to these roundabout words of love, but not when they were directed at him. If these were his friends he'd tell them to try it if they really felt strongly about it.

"I-I…l-let me think about it for a day, please," Souta mumbled. Nishimura nodded and left quicker than Souta had thought he would.

He had auditioned on a whim. He accepted to pursue the passion he'd found in his life. What he received were emotionally detached relatives and a confession of love.

"_Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering._" (Don Miguel Ruiz)

* * *

><p>• The reason Takumi and Gii's section is so short is because the upcoming movie, manga, and novel already focus on the conflicts that happen before Takumi visits his brother's grave. I decided to skip that part and work with the few clues I could get from the trailer and will continue when they're at the cemetery. For now you get awkward love confessions? Hope you enjoy. Unfortunately, Souta is still being a whiny problematic little...yeah. I just wanted them to let it all out there but guys are different at confessing love than girls. -.- and i'm not a guy<p>

• If you look at the student register Akaike gives Takumi in the third movie, you will see that it is 2009 in the story. June 15th is on a Monday, so I figured they would be in school and he would visit on the weekend. Also, in Japanese there is no actual name for the months. 'June' is the sixth month thus why I kept this: 6月14日 sixth month, fourteenth day. Another language note: Nishimura would technically have told Souta "kimi ga suki desu" which could be translated as "I love you" except it doesn't carry the same intimate connotation as "aishiteru" (which Gii and Takumi say to each other :3). And the bold and italicized curse words are spoke in English.

• Fun fact? I wrote most of this during a hurricane.


	7. A Truth Too Unbearable to Hide

_**What We Where, What We Want to Be**_

_**Chapter Seven, **__a Truth Too Unbearable to Hide_

The cemetery with its protruding white-washed lines enclosed by the greenery of the surrounding woods that baked underneath the June sun hadn't changed much since Takumi's last visit. Here and there were bouquets of fresh or wilted flowers, in the far distance a woman crouched before a tombstone. The building beside the yard stood off to the side, invisible except for the very top peaks of the roof. Their shoes clicked off of the cement as they navigated through the neat rows, hands mildly sweaty in each others' palms. Before long it came into view. The cemetery was not large enough for delays.

Though Gii had focused his eyes on the crouched figures nearing them, he felt the hesitation travel through the body he had become so accustomed towards. The slightest hitch in his step off-set him, and so he gave an encouraging tug and a small smile to urge his lover on. Gii had no notion of the blatant neglect and indifference Takumi's parents showered upon him despite how busy or consumed his own parents were with their lives. There was no reason for him to hesitate no matter which way these people acted, but he knew that for Takumi this confrontation was almost unbearable.

The idea that such inconsiderate people still occupied a space in Takumi's heart was even more unbearable. Gii wanted nothing more than for his boyfriend to forget them entirely and move on with his life instead of allowing them to cast their shadow over him. But Takumi wasn't the type of person to remove someone from his heart and mind without a second thought. It spoke volumes about his person, about how considerate he was, and it was the young man Gii had fallen in love with, but by no means a wholly positive trait.

They stopped and their figures directed the father's attention away from the grave, his eyes squinting against the glaring sun behind them. The mother didn't stray from the smooth stone upon which was her son's engraved name, _Hayama Naoto_. Her clenched fists had turned her knuckles white in her lap. When her husband gently guided her to the two young men standing before them, Gii saw just how frail Takumi's mother seemed that day. Not that he felt sorry for the woman after all she had done to her son, but he couldn't ignore the shadowed eyes or trembling hands and thin, terse lips.

He bowed a formal bow, releasing Takumi's hand for the moment. If his parents had seen the display of affection they said nothing about it. "I hope I'm not intruding. I'm Saki Giichi, a friend of Takumi's. He wanted to bring me to visit Naoto-san here," he said with a small motion towards the grave, his teeth gritted behind his charismatic smile. Addressing Takumi's brother with even the smallest amount of respect had taken all of his willpower. In retrospect, he shouldn't have cared what he said of the dead. Whether he insulted or praised Hayama Naoto mattered little to one who was long gone.

The mother's dark eyes flickered over them, almost accusing in their intensity. Gii had endured much larger threats before and saw no real reason to shy away like Takumi did, but took a reflexive step to protect him. The mistake had been made and those cold eyes latched onto the movement, however subtle it had been. It amazed him to witness such scrutiny under the circumstances. Takumi's mother stood with shaky help from her husband, the toll of the years apparent on her body. If not for that frailty that consumed her being, Gii would venture to place her as a younger woman.

"Well, it's good that Takumi finally made some friends," the father said with a light-hearted tone, a chuckle lingering in the air afterwards. No one accepted the effort to break the tension in the atmosphere. In the far distance a flock of birds rose above the treetops, and a chorus of insects laid a blanket of repetitive sound over the cemetery. The other visitors Gii caught a glimpse of from the corner of his eye ignored the tense four at a standoff.

"Is this one of the friends you left early to see during Golden Week?" Takumi's mother had a quiet voice for the moment, quiet and deadly serious. A touch of bitterness was behind her words and Gii still could not get a clear view of her face through those bangs. Behind him Takumi must have nodded. A second later the woman's neutral lips curved into a sneer. "Naoto wouldn't want strangers at his grave. Why didn't you think of that before you came? But since this young man's time's been wasted already, go ahead."

She took a few steps backwards, giving the two enough room to kneel with her looming over their shoulders. It was an unsettling position, no doubt. Still, they obediently fell to their knees and lowered their heads over clasped hands. Takumi might have taken the chance to properly pray for his brother, but Gii's mind had drifted far away from the deep scent of incense and the cold through his trousers. Surges of waves dyed in outrage rushed up through his stomach and into his throat. He could not speak for Naoto, could never begin to guess who he wanted at his grave. There was practically nothing he could understand about the guy.

What he did understand was what constituted real parents- acceptance, affection, caring yet firm discipline, and _love_. Those were just a few of the basic traits _Gii_ believed anyone should hold for someone dear to them, whether a lover or a parent or a child. He didn't want to admit that he might be wrong in that assumption. These rock hard walls shaped into a human form could not be called _parents_ who had loved their children. Even if all of their "love" had gone to waste on Naoto, there was no reason to scorn Takumi for something that had never been in his control.

"Mother," Takumi said in a very low, quiet voice. He seemed at conflict with himself for a moment before he lifted his head and met his mother eye-to-eye, perhaps, Gii thought, for the first time in his life. That was a sorrowful conclusion that clenched his heart tight and kept its strength as he straightened his back. "When I came last year, I met a lady who works at the hospital brother was at. She said- she said that she hoped I'd come. She found him that day, and heard his last words.

"He- brother wouldn't stop saying, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Takumi". I…I figured she never told you." His assumption had been correct, if the stricken faces on his parents had anything to do with it. An instant mask of disbelief overtook his mother's once-pretty features. Gii stood from his crouch and pulled Takumi along with him, not at all comfortable with how the situation was progressing.

"What are you _talking_ about?" she shrieked almost a whole minute later. The cemetery's temporary occupants peered through the gaps between tombstones, curious and indignant at the disturbance among the dead. That was a whole other world just a few meager meters away. "How do I know you're not lying? You lied before, didn't you? You've lied to your own mother before, haven't you? He- he didn't have anything to be sorry about!"

The doubt was there behind her voice, the doubt she was trying so hard to conceal. Gii backed against Takumi until he felt his lover's hand at his back holding onto a section of cloth. It tortured him being unable to see his face, to wish and kiss away all of the worries and pain until he felt nothing but all the love he had been deprived of all these years. There was this pitiful woman in front of them instead, not allowing him to retreat or advance.

"A-and what about him- you didn't tempt _him_, too, did you?" She pointed a quivering finger at Gii, level with his chest until she let it drop uselessly to her side. That was about all Gii processed before those waves inside him overflowed and crashed and he could no longer maintain that respectful distance he had been raised with. Takumi was at his back, shaken and upset but not yet crying- no, his sweet, _sweet_ Takumi was stronger than that.

"D-dear…" the father tried to reason.

"Shut up, shut up right now!" she screamed back almost instantly.

"How can you say that about your son- the only son you have left? That he's worthless, that everything's his fault, that he should be a better child," Gii ranted with all the pent up rage of hearing and witnessing those conflicting emotions inside Takumi for a year. He left no room for argument on the other side. "How could a child ever want something like that from their family? There's something wrong- something very wrong if he does! But you didn't see, didn't bother asking him. Everything became his fault, even when it's so logical that something was wrong with his _brother_, not him!

"And I _love_ him for what he is, for the forgiving fool that he is, a fool who still wants to reconcile with the parents that abandoned him from birth. I love him because I saw past his mask, just like you should have done. _I_ chose him. He chose to let me in his heart." Gii finished with a dramatic statement characteristic of him. There could have been the entire graduating third year class before them and he wouldn't have regretted his decision in the least. Takumi might not have been comfortable with it, and by now Gii restrained himself from public displays of affection, but not this time.

He turned around, placed firm hands over Takumi's shoulders, and pulled him into a simple, dry kiss lacking passion or complex emotions. He backed away before long, allowing a hand to fall down his lover's arm to grasp his wrist and give a tight squeeze. It had gotten the proper message across, leaving Takumi's parents mute and suspended in time. The father had an expressionless countenance; the mother's frozen in unadulterated anger and no small sense of horror. Gii admitted that it was not the most graceful, gentle way to introduce them to the idea that their son wasn't interested in girls, but at this point he found little compassion in his heart.

He spared his boyfriend a glance and was pleasantly surprised to see Takumi enduring the blows, eyes bright with unshed emotions and a determined line pressed against his lips. This was a confrontation long overdue, yet so necessary for him to move any further in his life. His family had held him back for eighteen years, had stomped on his self-confidence and disregarded his safety.

"Let's go, Takumi," Gii said a minute later. They had come, said their respects, and professed their love to his parents. No matter what Takumi thought, Gii considered this _over_. Never mind his qualms about his parents and gaining their acceptance or his desires to have a true family. For whatever reason, fate would not relinquish those simple requests. Gii physically pushed his boyfriend away from the grave and his shell-shocked parents, muttering soft words behind his ear. "We don't need them. You heard what they said; do you think they'll _ever_ forgive you, _ever_ love you? I don't say it to be mean."

Takumi wasn't convinced. Gii could feel it in his tense shoulders and clenched fists, but he firmly led his lover away. He _had_ to realize that these demons would forever chase him if he didn't let go. He had to realize that some people just didn't change no matter how many years passed or how many hardships they went through. There were always unredeemable people in the world, however optimistically they thought of it.

The usual helplessness and vulnerability that engulfed him when his mother spoke in those condescending tones of hers had tapered in Gii's comforting presence. The reassurance, the reminder that there were people who loved him had kept the tears away, had kept him from breaking altogether. That did not mean this was over, already stored into a deep recess of his mind. Those were his parents Gii had confronted, his parents who they were walking away from. Behind him was a miserable, almost joyless life, but that did not change the fact that it had been _his_.

There wasn't a bone in his body that he thought could refrain from contacting his parents within the next decade. The idea that he might never speak to them again was unfathomable. If meeting Gii and Akaike and everyone else had taught him anything, it was that he couldn't live by ignoring his problems and wearing a mask of indifference in place of his true emotions. By that same token, Gii had never stopped prodding him into moving on entirely, no strings attached. Gii thought it fine to leave this tension between them, and no matter how Takumi twisted his mind around it, he could not comprehend his reasoning.

There must have been a reason why Takumi allowed his legs to continue along the path, why he didn't demand they turn around and finish the conversation. He rounded a corner and long rows of whitewashed tombstones unfolded before his eyes. The uniform sight settled his conflicting emotions into a mournful, contemplative lull. He asked himself if he might regret this decision years later, if he might never hear his parents' last words and receive them in the same manner as he received his brother's. The answer was obvious. Naoto's passing had not lessened the impact of his actions. Listening to his final words might- _might_ have placed his heart at rest, even a tiny bit.

But the courage to confront his parents again had faded as fast as the calm before a storm. Even as he caught a glimpse of them from the corner of his eye, his feet had no real desire to wretch him away from Gii and return to that spot. He kept focused on the path ahead, pushing away the tumult of emotions deep in his stomach. There were a few people about, including a young man approaching them. An old lady knelt before a grave some rows ahead, a young couple just behind them now. The birds chattered in the distant treetops, wordless tunes lifting from the canopy into the summer air.

The young man had stopped, his head lifted just enough for Takumi to have a glance at tired eyes behind dark hair. The darkened rims around them, the thinness of his face, gave an otherwise good-looking guy a haggard appearance. Takumi had no time for further observation as he and Gii moved past the prone figure, the arched entrance guarded by flowering growth approaching.

"Wait, excuse me; are you…are you Hayama Naoto's little brother?"

Gii and Takumi turned at the sound of the voice, the shadowed face of the young man already in his mind. There was a slight sense of panic and nervous jitters behind his tone, but he had spoken Naoto's name without hesitation. Takumi might not have remembered his older brother's former friends, but he had been under the impression that they all but forgot about him when their parents institutionalized him. Never in four years had he heard of an old friend passing by the house to give his regards. No one had asked after him when he was alive either.

"You're Hayama Takumi, aren't you?" Gii narrowed his eyes and stepped protectively in front of him, not in the wrong for being cautious. This stranger knew his name, was persistent, and not exactly credible in appearance. The longer Takumi took to absorb the details, the more he realized that the guy had never been a friend from 'before' that time. Naoto's closest friends were the sporty types, the ones who had respected him for his resilience despite his health. On this boy, there was not a trace of muscle on his body. A loose shirt and light jacket made some attempt to conceal his unhealthily, _painfully_ thin figure.

"I am," Takumi finally replied. There was a book in his hands, a thin one with frayed pages and a simple, featureless cover. Bony, spidery hands concealed the title, of which Takumi could see the bare traces of characters. "How do you know my name? How do you know my brother, actually? I don't remember you being one of his friends."

"I-I'm Ishikawa Rakuto," the young man said hastily with a quick, jerky bow. A tentative smile tried to appear on his lips, but he seemed too worried to pull it off. He had a strange name, Takumi thought briefly, one he would not likely forget. "I met Naoto in Tachikawa, and we talked a lot in those two years, so I promised him I'd visit when I got out. I-I always thought he meant to visit him at the hospital, not here…I didn't know…even though he seemed fine just that morning."

The grief behind his strained voice was unmistakable, the utter guilt and regret that laced his words. Takumi winced, not in regards to the young man, but in remembrance of those thoughts of his mere minutes ago. Was that what he wanted to sound like one day? Did he want to live with unsettled business, unsaid words, and emotions that were never conveyed? Wondering about the relationship between the two had been a second thought. Even more baffling was that grief Takumi had agonized over himself. That Naoto had made a friend even in _there_ was just too much, but there was so much he didn't know…

"And why do you need to talk to us?" Gii said in place of Takumi. The guy seemed puzzled over his presence, but didn't comment about it. "The people at the desk told you where to find his grave, right?"

"Well, yes, but…Hitomi-san probably didn't tell you. She gave it to me because he wanted me to give it to his little brother, the notebook that is," Ishikawa said. He offered the battered object to Takumi, but when he closed his fingers over the cover the young man seemed reluctant to release it. The hidden characters had been simple, reading, _journal_. Ishikawa waved an arm as Takumi went to open the front cover. "No, you shouldn't read it now. It's…probably a lot of stuff you don't want to hear. It's just not really…"

"It's not the right place to read it? I should read it in private?" Takumi wondered as he folded the cover back in place. He was almost afraid to touch it now, afraid to be so near his brother's words. Knowing how twisted he was before, remembering those shameful moments, made him want to burn the thing more than he wanted to read it. His parents might want to see it though. Maybe if they read it, they would finally realize how demented their precious son's mind really was.

"You…you should give it to your parents, too. I-I only knew him for two years, but those two years were enough. In two years of therapy, of learning everything about each other, of learning so much, we grew closer. We knew things about each other _we_ didn't know about ourselves. And I don't think any of you ever knew about it either- not that I'm blaming you!" At that, Ishikawa backed up a step, hands held out harmlessly before him. Maybe Gii intimidated him? "You were young, so you probably didn't notice. But…but your parents should have. I'm not afraid to say that."

Takumi was losing what little comprehension he had of the conversation fast. They had been partners in therapy- that explained some things. He couldn't imagine Naoto in that situation, giving up his insecurities to a stranger, but he supposed they hadn't had a choice. He wondered what secrets his brother had taken with him to the grave.

But his parents had only paid attention to Naoto. With all of that care and affection and worrying over his condition, how could anything have escaped their sight? They loved him, Takumi would not deny that. They were in agony whenever something happened to him. Deep in his memory, buried underneath time and unpleasant recollections, were glimpses of hospitals and waiting rooms and stark white beds with beeping machines. His brother's pale, tear-stained face stared back at him, so much younger and more vulnerable than he could ever remember him being.

The memory could have been a fabricated thing, the result of his emotions trying to picture a Naoto that was not his strong, domineering big brother. But he did know that Naoto had gone to the emergency room or stayed as an inpatient when he was young, when his heart had not yet grown strong enough to support him.

"My parents…only gave their attention to him. How could they have missed something? They ignored me all the time, so how…?"

"I'm not a psychologist. But I've had shrinks dissecting my brain and behavior long enough to know something about psychology…and what I think, and it may be wrong, is that they saw too much of what they wanted to see, and not enough of the truth. They wanted a perfect son. They _saw_ a perfect son. You witnessed that firsthand, didn't you? They didn't want to believe he could do something so horrible." So this Ishikawa knew about _that_, Takumi thought with unease in his throat. This time he sought Gii's hand and held on tight.

"I _know_ you probably try not to think about it." There was a certainty in his voice, a sudden hardness that startled him there. It had little to do with the current topic. "But I want you to think back to then, even if it hurts, and I _know_ it hurts. Think what age you were that first time, what age Naoto was. You were both young. He was in his first year of middle school. He-he touched you and within the year he started making you _do_ things, didn't he?"

The only warning from Gii was the tightening of his grip, which Ishikawa couldn't have seen. Takumi had been unaware of his quivering body, too immersed in the world this young man had brought back to him. He tried to swallow but his throat was dry.

"You bastard, what gives you the right to go around saying this stuff?" Gii snarled in that rare, fierce tone of his. Only Takumi's hand held him back from throwing a hit. The sudden act of violence startled Ishikawa badly, as if he _had_ been struck a painful blow across the face. The thin young man recoiled, backed away until his side pressed against the wall of bushes that surrounded the cemetery. A dark, momentary fright passed over his features and Takumi gently pulled Gii back.

This guy had been in that mental hospital for a reason. He knew that horrible memories were painful, but necessary to heal as a person. He had such guilt and grief over Naoto's death. To provoke him might stir up those memories and the last thing Takumi wanted to do was hurt someone he didn't know, someone he knew absolutely nothing about. That would make him as bad as those first years.

"Gii, it's okay. R-really, I want to hear what he has to say." Takumi said it quietly, subdued and ready to brace himself for whatever came next. It took a moment for Ishikawa to regain his train of thought, but he eventually returned to the present in both body and mind. Still, he remained a respectful distance from Gii and placed a wary shield over his eyes. Eventually he began where he left off, calmer now. He stared past Gii and met Takumi in the eyes.

"Think about it now. If it hadn't been for Naoto, would you have known anything about that? Do middle school students know how to have sex? Would any normal one rape their little siblings or even have those thoughts to begin with? The answer is no- people don't know these things. People learn them from other people. It was a common study in the hospital- about victims and offenders and _why_ it happens. He-he told me one day. We both told each other something secret, the truth we'd been denying for a long time.

"Naoto's was that his fifth grade teacher liked him a lot. Like his parents, his teacher paid special attention to him, maybe because of his heart condition, maybe because he was bright. But he paid too much attention, made up excuses to keep him from too many clubs that year. And you can guess what he did. It's all written in that notebook- everything we talked about that day, even," at this Ishikawa winced, "even about me."

Takumi's mind reeled at the possibility, at that image from the hospital that might or might not have been an illusion. His brother had always seemed unbreakable in his young mind; it was as if he never had the same problems Takumi seemed to suffer from. If he did think about it, such a thing couldn't be possible. His brother had his flaws- that he knew. To live without insecurities wasn't human- that he also knew. His mind had never crossed that bridge until now.

"How do you know it wasn't just his mental illness?" he asked doubtfully. That had been his truth for almost six years, after all; he wasn't about to drop it because this perfect stranger wanted to convince him otherwise. True, Ishikawa had nothing to lie about since he had given Takumi the notebook, but it was still hard to wrap his mind around the fact that someone _wanted_ to defend Naoto. It had taken Gii for someone to defend _him_.

"Of course," the young man began in a relenting tone. A pained expression crossed his face for a brief moment, as if he hadn't wanted to compromise. "The doctors said that no matter what happened to him, he would never have been _normal_. He would have taken advantage of you or someone else eventually. What happened to him just triggered it very early in life- and made it that much harder on the both of you. But it's not to say that he would have acted _sexually_- or maybe he would have. But that teacher ruined him. You can't say a kid that's ten years old deserves it, even if he was messed up in the head."

"Then why did no one notice? Another teacher, his parents," Gii demanded from the guy. He might have hated Naoto for violating his lover, and he might never forgive him for that, but it didn't mean he couldn't see what was right and wrong anymore. Takumi was quiet himself, thinking back to that time. Of course he had been too young to remember anything with clarity. It was possible that he had thought his brother had a bad day and left it at that, as any child would.

He tightened his grip on the notebook. Whatever truth Naoto believed in was in there. Even if it was a twisted truth, it must have held some fact.

"I said it, didn't I? They only saw what they wanted to see. And Naoto, from what I can understand, didn't want to disappoint them. He knew how they treated you, Takumi-san. You were imperfect in their eyes, so he didn't want to become that too. I guess it's selfish. But he was what, ten?" Ishikawa shrugged and shoved his hands in the pockets of the loose jacket he wore. His shoulders sagged, narrowing his already thin form. "I don't know if you want to tell your parents yourself. I thought I'd tell you first. I figured it'd be safer."

Takumi shook his head; his resolve had fled when Gii dragged him away. They might not believe him anyways since they piled so many faults against him. At least Ishikawa was a clean slate, someone they had no prior judgment of. "It's okay; you go. You seem to understand him better anyways."

The young man gave them a dubious glance before he turned around and set off at a brisk jog to catch up to his parents, who had just left the grave. Not eager to face them again, Takumi and Gii finally made their way under the arched gate and down the winding path to the funeral parlor beyond. The beige tiled building stood against a grove of trees, a simple design with a simple purpose. After all, when people were grieving, the elegance of their surroundings mattered little. The place did have quite extensive facilities, though, like a lunchroom.

Tokyo was over two hours away and breakfast was a long ways off by now. Gii and Takumi entered through the back entrance, and navigated through the plain corridors lined with nameless rooms.

Takumi had stored the notebook safe inside his messenger bag, determined to plough through it with Gii on the train back to Tokyo and Shidou no matter how emotional it got. Ishikawa had faded from his mind while they leaned over their lunches laughing and smiling as they hadn't done in awhile. Those carefree twenty minutes were reminiscent of their companionship last year when the responsibilities were not so numerous. For awhile it felt as if they had been taken back to that time, to that awkward adjustment period he wouldn't trade for the world.

Twenty minutes later they were spirited away into the real world again, their current world with endless dramatics and hardships. The world had always been that way in retrospect. Life had never come easy to Takumi, not even when he met Gii. Some troubles had melted away, but some like those first years appeared to take their places. They walked away from the lunchroom and emerged into the central reception hall to find that Ishikawa seemed to have just finished his explanation to Takumi's parents. Apparently he had given them a much more extended version. Either way, as he had assumed, his parents looked less than pleased.

They came within earshot of the conversation where pure curiosity kept their feet grounded. Ishikawa had fallen silent, keeping decent distance between him and Takumi's mother as she neared.

"I-it's _you_," she said with an outstretched finger. If Takumi had to guess, her eyes were alight with fire. "_You're_ the one Naoto talked about all the time! What lies did you tell him? You and all those sick, _sick_ people in there…"

"Naoto was one of us," Ishikawa said bitterly, a frown set across his lips. He placed great emphasis on the "us" portion of his sentence, giving Takumi the impression that maybe mental hospitals weren't the rooms of solitude he characterized of them. "He told me everything; I told him nothing except for my own problems."

"He always talked about an 'Ishikawa'," his mother said as if his words had flown in a straight trajectory over her head, not even skimming a hair. This was her ranting voice, Takumi thought with a wince. On the other hand, he had never heard it as an outside listener. Those overwhelming emotions didn't overcome him when he wasn't the object of her anger and hatred. "Y-you're the sick one! He said you tried to kill your own siblings! Why are you even out when he could never leave? What difference is it from _strangling your little brother?_"

The young man recoiled as if he'd been struck across the face with a particularly harsh blow. The stricken horror and pain that dawned on his features brought with them a certain nervousness that hadn't been there before, even when Gii had moved in threateningly to protect Takumi. He didn't have words for a minute, too absorbed in whatever memories haunted _him_ to respond. '_But I want you to think back to then, even if it hurts, and I __**know**__ it hurts,_' he had said. Takumi was uneasy now. Not that he should really believe anything that came out of his mother's mouth anymore, but the guy's reaction had more meaning than a thousand words.

"T-that's not- it wasn't…it wasn't the same thing. I…back then…" His voice fragmented into a million fragile little pieces. Takumi couldn't see much of his face through the strands of his hair, but he didn't need to see to believe anything. Ishikawa had much more to be guilty for than Naoto's death, which had probably been completely out of his control. But what Takumi wanted to know was _why_- why someone who was able to come to those conclusions about Naoto would in turn have done something like that. Naoto had never wanted to _kill_ him.

"It…it has nothing to do with Naoto," he finally said, struggling to get back to his original point. Takumi's mother shook her head, long hair flying wildly about.

"Why do you get to make judgments about us? You're just a criminal who nearly murdered his family. I read about it in the papers later, you know. No wonder your siblings want nothing to do with you! Yet you stupidly believed they still loved you- that they still wanted you!" Takumi backed into Gii's embrace and wrapped his hands over his forearms. This was too much. His mother wasn't just cruel to him.

"A-and I don't blame them for that now! That's why I was in there for seven years! I'm better; I won't seek them out anymore, even if my little brother doesn't remember me at all, even if he hates me and wants me to die! I-I realize now- committing suicide won't bring our parents back. It won't bring us any closer to them; it isn't their last wish. But back then it was different; I was hurting and confused and angry. Everyone was moving on too fast. It was as if they never existed, as if their deaths didn't matter. T-they never caught the guy who did it. I just didn't know how they could move on like that…"

Ishikawa's voice lowered as he trailed away. The outburst of passionate emotions had brought tears to his eyes, the thick drops dribbling down his cheeks as he backed away. Takumi hadn't realized how hard he was squeezing Gii's arms until he noticed how tight his embrace was in return. He loosened his grip, but found his throat tight again. It was in the notebook, Ishikawa had said. All of that was in there through Naoto's eyes. If they had been friends, then how did Naoto react? Takumi was a stranger and his heart still ached in his chest.

"Just because they released you doesn't mean-"

"Stop it, just _stop_ it," Gii interrupted. He released Takumi almost roughly and strode across the two or three meters between them. He hurried to follow his boyfriend, and they both ended up standing between his parents and Ishikawa. Takumi spared a glance behind him and flashed a small smile. Ishikawa seemed rather amazed that they were bothering to do such a thing for him. "Can't you see he's had enough? As if visiting the grave of a…a friend isn't enough, you have to dredge up these things too?

"Now, I don't like Naoto one bit. I hate him for what he did to Takumi, but I think now…I think there's someone else I should hate before I hate him- his teacher for one, for hurting him as a child. And if I had to guess, Naoto wasn't the only one. And you two are second, for never seeing. You say you loved him; you certainly paid him more attention than Takumi. But you didn't even realize your favorite son was hurting? Instead you lost both of them- Naoto to that hospital and his death- and Takumi, too. You can't believe that you can be parents to him _now_?"

For once in his existence, Takumi saw his mother back away and admit defeat. Her views might not have changed at all despite what had happened in the past two hours or so, but the important thing was that she had given up. It was a triumph, even if it was not in the sense Takumi had hoped for. He swallowed the remaining hesitation in his throat, took up the courage Gii had placed and nurtured in his heart, and threw away the last remnants of hope he had clung onto for years.

"Let's go," he said to Gii and to Ishikawa, too. His boyfriend nodded and they turned away, towards the pristine glass doors with the cross above the doorway and the simple wooden paneling going around the room. Along the way Gii gave Ishikawa's shoulder a shove to direct him away from the hall, and all three of them walked into the June sun together.

The walk away from the funeral parlor was in silence. The buses that stopped at the base of the small hill the establishment rested on hadn't yet arrived. And so they waited underneath the awning, a couple and a stray on a metal bench with solemn faces. It was not an unusual sight coming from a cemetery. If not for the preexisting atmosphere, Takumi might have broken into uncontained relief and laughter. He had finally left their shadows.

Minutes passed; many more minutes would pass before another bus rolled by. Takumi glanced at Ishikawa. He was at least Naoto's age, which would place him at either twenty two or twenty three. He couldn't imagine wasting seven years in the place his brother had gone to. Coping with that afterwards, without a family or friends for support, was also unimaginable.

"Ishikawa-san…what are you going to do now? There isn't anyone you…?"

"My old friends forgot about me. Everyone else from back then doesn't want to talk to me. I understand that. I'm different than I was then, and I'm a criminal to top it off. I'm renting an apartment in Tokyo now, living off the government- that stuff." He shrugged, his voice switching from a bitter tone to one of quiet acceptance. "…He always regretted it, you know. He tried so hard to repress those urges…but I guess it didn't work. He wasn't sick like I was. All I had was PTSD. I didn't like the truth so I made myself believe in my own version. His wasn't an option."

"…Did the hospital make you think like that?" Gii asked after a time. Ishikawa cast him a questioning glance, his brows furrowed in confusion. Gii shook his head. "Did they teach you to think of yourself and what happened to you like that- so detached- like you're a subject?"

The curious gaze the young man had fixed on Gii didn't disappear. "I had to or else they won't release you. If you can think about yourself as if you're another person, you can see where you're going wrong easier. They can't watch us forever- those of us who leave."

It was sad, Takumi thought with a sideways glance. It was just sad.

"_The defects and faults of the mind are like wounds in the body. After all imaginable care has been taken to heal them up, still there will be a scar left behind._" (François de la Rochefoucauld)

* * *

><p>• No Nishimura and Souta segment this time, because this chapter is so important and <em>long<em>. I never planned for it to be this long. 0.0 This makes up for that short part last chapter. Thanks to white pedal for the brainstorming I did with her, making all of this up about Naoto. Although this is not the last you see of his parents, it does give some closure. Not quite sure when the next update will be, might not be for awhile.

• I want opinions: do the readers want Rakuto (Ishikawa) to be a reoccurring character? I personally like him, and he will be in my other Takumi fanfic, _Insanity_. That story explains in detail Naoto's life when he's in the mental hospital, sort of what his journal would say. However, he does have a lot of emotional baggage and doesn't exactly fit into the age group. xD To make this clear, Rakuto has two siblings: an older sister and a younger brother. He tried to kill his little brother when he wouldn't commit suicide, and would have done the same to his sister before killing himself.

• Hitomi is what I call the nurse who found Naoto in the forest and took care of him there.


	8. We Forget How to Speak

_**_**What We Where, What We Want to Be**_**_

_**Chapter Eight,**__ We Forget How to Speak, But Not How to Cry_

The train reentered the bustling city filled street-to-street with activity and strangers passing through their lives. Massive building complexes extended into the afternoon sky, identical oppressive walls planted into a maze called civilization. Construction and traffic drilled raucous shrieks into the air and everyone pushed onward without regard for each other. The never-ending life squeezed him tight until he could scarcely breathe, but without absorbing him into that normal standard every person seemed comfortable with.

The buildings shrunk from view as the train descended into the subway systems under Tokyo, the daylight cut away at once and plunging them into a darkness that glowed of eerie orange lighting. The interior remained lit by blinding white, clean and empty and filled with the thin sense of security he found in familiarity. The cold breath of the air conditioning blew on his skin. While the train decelerated as the white tiled station came into sight, he forced a stiff hand to the rail and lifted himself to his feet. The floor shivered beneath him and the container came to a shuddering stop.

Rakuto reminded himself that living free of oppression was not a right, but a privilege. He could not be ungrateful. A second chance was a blessing that by no means should be disregarded. The city and its unsettling atmosphere were just two of the prices he had to pay for his release. Normal people coped with everyday life and at some point, he had done the same, so it was a simple matter of adjustment to another phase, another chapter he would have to patiently read until the end. Within a year he should have been acclimated again, maybe with a part time and some unsteady income of his own.

Store clerks, his landlord and unsuccessful interviews aside, Hayama and the boy with him were the first people he had held a proper conversation with in a little under a year. And he used the term "proper conversation" very loosely. It had not been as short, brief or emotionally detached as he would have preferred it to be. Not that he had expected much better results the minute those words entered his sight. Considering all of the possibilities that had run through his head last night, he supposed the day had gone far beyond his expectations.

Metal doors slid open with a _hiss_ and warm subway tunnel air blasted into the steely cold domain. Rakuto slid through the crowd of loading passengers, careful to avoid contact, brushing shoulders only when necessary. The busy, purposeful aura that surrounded everyone still put him on edge, as did the subconscious knowledge- or paranoia- that anyone could snap at any given moment. The doctors had taken great pains to convince him that not each person on the street was mentally deranged or had some ulterior motive, but that had been a long time ago.

Hayama and that boy had followed him. He swiped his card through the slot at the tolls and slipped into the throng heading upstairs into daylight and the city. They could follow him for all he cared, but they wouldn't discover much more about him than he had already told them. Rakuto was living one of those lives a notch below average, the type of person mothers warned their kids to not become. Tomorrow he worked his backbreaking shift at the supermarket and today he had nothing except for his mind to amuse himself with.

Other forms of entertainment had the unfortunate side effect of bringing his memories to happier times, and he liked to run himself in circles with his thoughts. They were mostly silly nothings and pointless rhetorical questions that no one bothered to think about, let alone answer. It was all unconstructive and he hated it. He let his mind wander far too often upon subjects that either hurt to touch or meant less than a speck of dust. As it was, now he pulled his feet through the streets without reading the signs and barely sparing a glance for oncoming traffic.

Bushels of treetops emerged as he rounded the corner to the park where children liked to play and where a small gathering of animals consistently visited. The park was a good memory, the calming sort that brought his mind back to happier times without the bitter ones tagging at their heels. He hadn't eaten anything since breakfast but the hunger that had gnawed at his stomach on the train melted away as he crossed the street. The trees here were different somehow from the ones that surrounded Tachikawa. Maybe it was the height or scrawny trunks or distinct lack of broad-leafed firs that changed his perception of the past.

If Rakuto concentrated hard enough he could find familiar faces underneath those falling leaves and lose himself in another him. They were mostly patients or caretakers from the hospital, but on occasion an old friend would stop by and say hello. Rakuto had yet to respond to any of them, though. Even Naoto whose charisma never failed to open him up no matter how down the day had been went without reply. He was afraid. He was so afraid that if he answered those illusions would return and he'd have to spend another seven years of his life in prison.

Today there were real, solid people on the metal bench beside him- Hayama Takumi and his friend with the auburn-tinted hair. They were talking quietly, holding hands, a light flush on the dark haired boy's cheeks that was not from the June heat. Dappled shade glimmered over them, a cool breeze playing amongst the branches. Rakuto closed his eyes and tried to erase the sight of shifting patterns against his clothes and skin, and the scents and emotions that came with them. Hayama Takumi was very much Naoto's little brother in physical appearance, if not in personality.

He could not allow his vision to flutter over them when Hayama spoke out to him. He had enough problems with ghosts without having an almost concrete one beside him.

"Will it really be okay, Ishikawa-san? I mean, won't it be lonely…or something? If you want, I wouldn't mind keeping in touch." So what Naoto had always said about his brother was true, he thought as he tore a few loose strings from his shirt. He was considerate of others, a bit of a saint at his own expense. But he had changed from the version Rakuto heard about over four years ago. Of course he did. Without Naoto he could be a different person. Six years offered a lot of room to grow, after all, in the point of life when a person was easily shaped by their surroundings.

Rakuto almost winced. It had been a long four years. It would be a long future if he stuck to his therapy and killed the urge to commit suicide. Unfortunately, he had grown rather attached to life again, no matter how crappy his seemed at the moment and no matter how bleak the kilometers ahead of him were.

He had almost forgotten that Hayama had spoken to him. "It's okay; you don't have to bother. There's no reason for us to stay in touch…its better if we don't. It's not you," he said hastily at the implication. He cursed his politeness; it made him flustered and threw his control over his words out the window. He distinctly remembered being a rude child when he was little. "It's uh, me, I guess. I…try not to having anything to do with the past, you know? It's bad for my rehabilitation and therapy. The doctors would prefer if I didn't remember those things.

"I know, people don't really like thinking about the past but…I tend to get absorbed in it, is all," he shrugged. That he hadn't spoken to anyone at length in a year might have been why his words didn't quite come out as eloquently as he would have liked. What he said at the cemetery had been rehearsed to a point- and Naoto's mother had completely undone his mouth with her biting comments. He comforted himself with the fact that once they left he might not see these two for a long time, _if _Hayama didn't pursue the matter.

Maybe it was influence from his friend, but the boy didn't repeat his request. They lapsed into silence again, the comfortable sort Rakuto didn't mind and the rest of the population found awkward. With so much time in a day, he didn't see the merit of rushing through conversations and forcing out words that didn't want to be spoken. Something better would come by if it was meant to, and they only had to wait. Something _did_ arrive to replace the gap a few minutes later, but it was not "better" by any of his definitions.

He had been pointedly ignoring the two seated beside him, his blunt fingernails digging into the underside of the metal bench. The playground in the distance brought the noisy chatter of children across the park, and somewhere beyond that a dog was barking when he saw her. Time of day had little correlation since he frequented this grove of trees no matter the hour; this was a person who did not belong here. The familiar face immediately set him on edge and his hands squeezed so hard that he slipped, and a sharp pain flooded his hand.

Hayama inquired after him at his low hiss and movement to nurse the wound. A welt of autumn-red swelled at his finger, numb with the sensation of pins being struck through his flesh and veins and nerves. The sight was somewhat gruesome, but concern fled from his mind the moment he caught movement in the distance and a rounded face now slim with maturity turned. He bolted from his seat to flee somewhere- maybe among the thin mock of a forest or back into the bustling city where anonymity came natural.

As instinct had told him when Hayama's friend made that sudden protective threat against him, the boy was strong in every way Rakuto had never had to chance to be. His uninjured hand was caught in a firm grip, not cruel but far from gentle. An anxious grimace touched the corner of his lips and all of those old, _old_ uncertainties came flooding back, and they frightened him more than seeing Naoto wave from around the corner. These were urges just as real, if not more dangerous than hearing ghosts he never had the heart to let go of.

"Ishikawa-san, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," Hayama's friend said. If he concentrated for a moment, Rakuto could hear the concern behind this perfect stranger's tone, a gentleness that had not been around before. For the moment his mind was too muddled and clouded by emotions with words he couldn't express, desires that he had never wanted to name before. Tokyo was massive; he had been so sure that he would never see them again and he had not prepared for this. Naoto had given him a grace period of a year, at least.

"Worst than a ghost," Rakuto muttered as he wrestled for control over his arm, twisting every which way in search of some slack in the younger guy's grip. He spared a glance for the other direction and panicked. Nothing in his life was a coincidence, nothing a freak accident he could shake off. The kindness of these two strangers had not been a sudden stroke of luck. Meeting Naoto out of all those patients had not been as simple as the event seemed in his memories. And her change in direction was _not_ because she wanted to wander near the grove of trees or bask underneath the spotted shade.

People changed drastically in eight years. Naoto's little brother was not the same overshadowed second son his recollections had painted; Rakuto was not the same petulant child with a slight mean streak and a way of getting things done. These tender years molded them and while she had been nearly an adult that day she pushed him out the door with his suitcase, they had done much to change her, too. Her body had matured, as did her facial features and the steady emotions behind them. From her teenage years she had put on a little weight, now healthy instead of skinny and conscious of fashion.

The biggest change was probably the two children she had left with a man at the playground. In comparison, Rakuto had remained relatively the same all these years.

"Let me _go_," he hissed at the high school student holding him. The skin of his wrist was uncomfortable against the chafing and the large hand engulfed his. What was he kidding? He wasn't getting out of that grip. Surrendering, Rakuto allowed some slack between them and sighed in relief when he regained control over his body parts. He allowed a glare towards the two students before turning around, all the while cursing the resemblance between his deceased friend and his little brother. With a flick of a wrist or a disarming smile, even a fake one at that, Naoto had rendered him with the both the courage to do anything and butterflies that made him melt.

"Who is that?" Hayama asked as she approached. Her intent was clear at such a close distance. At the same time she spoke with a much different voice than he remembered:

"…_Rakuto…?_"

"She…she's my older sister," he mumbled, backing away to the growing familiarity of these people he had met under not so excellent circumstances just this morning. Maybe Naoto's haunting memory had something to do with it, but he found it sad that he took more comfort in strangers than his own sister. He couldn't back away any further without falling into the space next to Hayama's friend and he wanted to play his height for all it was worth. She had always been taller.

"They…they let you out?" He winced; perhaps her tone had not been laced with accusation as Naoto's mother's had been, but he couldn't help but take the negative connotation anyways. It had taken months of careful scrutiny and rigorous therapy sessions for him to realize the truth, and knowing it did not soften the impact. He almost liked it better when he wholeheartedly believed that his sister was coming back for him when he recovered. Now he had a niece and a nephew and hadn't known for three or four years. His sister was a _mother_. He always thought she wouldn't marry until late, but maybe that had been his illusion of her- strong and academic.

"I'm sorry; I didn't think I'd ever see you here because Tokyo is so big, but I guess I was wrong," he shrugged with a tight swell in his throat and words that were quickly fleeing. He couldn't make eye contact as he had done with Hayama and his mother, instead settling for the grass compressed under his feet and his hands twisting and turning in his lap. He had given in once again, and was now sitting next to Hayama's friend. "I swear I didn't plan it. The hospital and the government set me up here, so I can't exactly move."

Hayama leaned over and flashed him a sympathetic smile, but didn't move from the bench. He seemed to have realized the importance of having an anchor, no matter if that anchor was an acquaintance.

"I…I won't bother arguing that I've gotten better because I haven't, not really, not when I still see _people_ around and hear things. I mean, I know they were murdered now and all, and that dying isn't a good thing." And there were other things he had learned, lessons no textbook ever talked about in excruciating detail that brought tears and emotions to his eyes. He could not convey how he had learned what loneliness was, and how hopeless true hopelessness was. He could never describe how uplifting it was to smile at a friend with the knowledge that he would not be judged, nor of the pain that came with carrying both their burdens.

"But I mean…what I really want to say I guess, is that I know. I know…you don't want your kids growing up knowing me. You don't even want your husband to see me over here, which is why you're standing in his way. You didn't want Masaki to remember me; I asked the hospital, way back when and they told me. And if he knows even a little about me, if he can remember anything, I know he hates me. And it's okay. It's okay if you do, too. I did," Rakuto finished on a soft note. He voice was of acceptance, of pure facts as he had come to piece them together.

Hayama had a discerning expression on his face and he wondered what he had done wrong on instinct. Naoto sometimes had that look when he had berated himself too much or when he had gotten out of line of their discussion. He had to admit, being examined under everything except a microscope by therapists and psychologists had its benefits. He could talk this way without running into or around emotional barriers, and he could piece together fragments other people might normally overlook.

"R-Rakuto, I was young when all that happened, too." He glanced upwards and found another discerning face. Maybe normal people didn't talk as informally of these things as he had thought. "I made some bad decisions, like sending my little brother away forever. I thought that was what I wanted, and it _was_ what I wanted for a long time. But then I had a family and…and I realized that family is most important, and I'm already missing over half of it. T-that's why I…I don't hate you anymore."

Her voice broke into a remnant Rakuto had hidden away deep within his subconscious, a memory so faint beneath the indignant pain and frustration he was liable to believe it had never happened. Except now he understood the type of pain she had experienced at that time, and it didn't seem so strange to remember her voice hitched with sobs and grief anymore. That angry sixteen year old wanted nothing more than to blame someone else and when the police did not deliver, he erased all of those illusions he'd had of his sister and replaced them with a villain.

That didn't justify his actions, just as his revelation of Naoto's past had not made his crimes worth any less. Rakuto shook his head and glanced upwards with a small, empty smile. "You don't have to pretend. Masaki remembers me, doesn't he? Wouldn't it just drive away the only other sibling you have, who you've been close to, by saying you don't hate me anymore? People don't forget injuries so fast," he said with a glance towards Hayama. They were all testament to that fact.

"It's okay; I don't mind." Rakuto bit his tongue as deep within his chest stirred a stinging pain, the kind that made him drive over the brink of his emotions. He stood and without lifting his head, swerved around his sister and across the grassy field that swayed in the light breeze. He convinced himself that living in solitude was safe years ago. Letting in ghosts of the past and allowing them to tear apart his heart again hurt more than letting in traitorous strangers.

Two pairs of feet trotted after him, but all the time until they departed at the station was spent in silence.

* * *

><p>A single day had not been nearly enough time to consider and weigh every possibility that might result from either answer. His displacement early in life had made him inherently different, and it came down to more than geographic location. Had he remembered his family and birthright, he might have been much like everyone else even if he had stayed in America. Had the two most important influences in his life not vanished in a wink, he would have changed.<p>

But he had grown up in the aftermath of a life-altering accident unable to speak the common language, with no ally in sight. He had spent the rest of his childhood and teenage years in rough households, and became friends with the kindest, most selfless person he'd ever met. Souta hated running away from his problems by that point almost as much as Aaron unconsciously did the opposite. Because there were a few good friends by his side, he hadn't wanted to run away from the prejudices he faced.

Maybe he hadn't been willing to give this place a chance, but he was now willing to give the people _in_ it a chance, however small.

But he was letting his thoughts wander too far and focused on the mirrored wall of the studio to steady his mind. He still didn't know what to say. The fact that they were both boys didn't bother him, of course. Aaron had liked boys for awhile and had always treated Souta as a brother, never as a love interest. But because of how society shunned people like that, his friend had been hurt. He didn't let himself look for love and Souta, maybe as a consequence of never really fitting in, didn't either. When love came to him, he didn't know how to respond.

Nishimura wasn't cruel; beyond all of those manipulations, he had the best intentions. Souta was sure that he was a genuinely nice person. But Aaron's boyfriend had been _nothing but nice_ too- until they found out the truth. Souta wasn't weak in asserting himself like Aaron was, but the memories struck him mute. Sometimes love- and desperation- blinded people. Sometimes he could see the benefits and merits of running away and never looking back.

The doors screeched open and swung to a close, a rush of night air swirling into the studio. Soft footsteps entered. He didn't have much time. _Think, think, think_, he repeated in his mind, _what do you really want?_ Aaron would tell him to try, that he would never know unless he tried and might regret not pursuing it later. He told him that about dancing and it took him across the world, back to his homeland, away from his first real friends, and gave him an irreplaceable happiness.

Nishimura stopped behind him at his shoulder; Souta saw him through the mirror and felt the heat from his legs mere inches from his back. "I know it was sudden. I know you have…issues with it, but I still want to ask. It's strange for you; it's strange for _me_. I keep on wondering if I'm going to regret this one day."

"It's not strange," Souta muttered. Well, the social taboo of it was not strange in the least to him. What was strange was that someone he barely knew found enough of _something _in him to ask that question. "My best friend is…well, you heard all that. I'm not going to regret my decision if I say "yes"…but I don't know if that's what I really want either. Relationships aren't as easy as "try it once, if you don't like it, quit" things. I guess what I really want to ask is…do you really, _really_ like me- enough not to make this a mistake?"

There was silence for awhile. Souta refused to look into the mirror, afraid of his reflection, afraid of Nishimura's emotions. He hadn't said it, but he wasn't sure about dating an upperclassman either. There were consequences to everything of course, but would it really make them both happy? For the first time since this ordeal started, his stomach melted into a churning tide of nerves. Before, he'd just been empty and considering.

Nishimura touched him lightly on the shoulder with his fingers and pulled a little, asking him to turn. The impersonality of the situation must have unnerved him. At this point, Souta wasn't entirely comfortable with it either. He consented, having little trouble with eye contact. Souta was still a ways shorter than Nishimura, not that much, but not tall enough to easily meet the other boy's eyes. His hands suddenly needed something to do besides clench into fists. He didn't want to give the wrong impression- though he found himself wondering what impression he did want Nishimura to have. It shouldn't have mattered.

He only tapped Souta's chin, but it was enough a signal for him to figure out that Nishimura wanted them to see each other. Maybe he felt that their emotions might be more real that way. He lifted his head. If he felt anything for his sempai he wouldn't regret this. If he didn't feel anything for him and went through with it, he'd have to maneuver his way out of a mess alone. That was his issue- that, and he couldn't seem to grasp at _what_ he felt towards Nishimura. He was thankful for the presence of someone to talk to, and a little spiteful at being used.

"Nishimura-san, I…" Someone had to start, even if it didn't accomplish anything. It worked. Nishimura tilted his head downwards a bit and interrupted him in a soft voice, unusual since they were alone.

"My name's Tatsuya," he whispered. Souta's eyes widened, but they were on two different wavelengths here. Nishimura had probably intended it to hold some special weight, but Souta had never actually heard his entire name spoken before. Something weird and brief had happened when they were introduced, so his sempai on the dance team only introduced him as "your Nishimura-sempai". Just so that he didn't get the wrong idea, Souta forced a small chuckle to his throat. Confused, he said, "What?"

"I never got your first name before. Sorry," he shook his head. Nishimura was still puzzled for a moment before he smiled and realized what had happened.

"You can call me Tatsuya, I don't mind." Souta nodded, but the name felt weird on his tongue after all this time. Not that the name didn't fit his senior; it just sounded foreign. Nishimura- Tatsuya actually- shifted for a moment as if undecided about something before gripping him around his upper arms. The hold wasn't tight, but firm. Souta wasn't bothered by it much since the second year had done it a few times to shake the sense out of him. Suddenly he was very glad that he wasn't the one facing the mirror anymore.

"Do-do you like me?" Maybe the entire night was a little clichéd, Souta admitted to that. Maybe they weren't the best speakers and didn't know what to do with their emotions, but just maybe things would work out. Nishimura caught himself before he said anything and paused a moment while butterflies danced in Souta's heart.

If Nishimura answered Souta neither cared nor heard. His sempai leaned down an inch or so with his head tilted, and pressed warm lips against him, and for a moment neither of them moved. It was a simple first kiss, nothing complicated or intense as Souta had seen it get back home, but it was at least a little bit special. The older boy moved a fragment further by opening his lips, allowing them to slide against each other a little easier. He was probably just grateful that Souta hadn't started spitting like a wildcat. Sometimes he had a temper, but he liked to believe that it didn't _always_ manifest itself at the worst moments.

He had no objections this time. Nishimura (he would probably never really get rid of _that_ habit) seemed much more nervous than Souta had imagined he might be, and soon they had broken apart for air with heat tingeing their skin. They were close, so close he could feel the warmth from his sempai through his clothes. Sometimes, _most of the _time, he didn't know how or why this stuff happened to him. For once, the unexpected shock had been pleasant.

Now if only he could stop calling his boyfriend by his surname, then he would be a lot happier. When- if- their relationship went beyond awkward little kisses they would be in a _much_ more awkward situation if he didn't shake himself of the habit. But it hadn't been _his _fault for not receiving his first name when they met. After being in the dark for months, it was hard to change habits.

When he'd told Aaron, he was quite sure that he _wouldn't_ want to return to America just yet. That was a first, but with good reason; he was rather afraid of his friend's wrath. Aaron was rightfully protective of his adopted little brother, and he was a doting person who would never _shut up_ about his finally liking someone. No, Aaron didn't need to see him that desperately yet. Talking over the phone was enough for now.

Home was where the heart was. While everyone over on the east coast would always be his second home, for now he allowed a piece of it to inhabit Japan for the second time in his life. Their noses brushed as they pulled away from another wet, warm kiss, and a small yet contented smile crossed his lips. Yes, he confirmed; he could entrust that little piece to Nishimura with the confidence that he would hold it dearly for this moment in time.

"_Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time._" (Haruki Murakami)

* * *

><p>• I'm busy, so I've been building a buffer. This chapter has been finished for quite a while now and I'm about to start chapter nine. I know people are reading this, so please review. .<p> 


	9. Written Between the Lines

**_What We Were, What We Want to Be_**

_**Chapter Nine,**__ Written Between the Lines_

A deep golden and rose tinted dye leaked into every crevice between the clouds, painting the shapeless forms in harsh relief as a thick early summer breeze lugged them across the sky. Pale, uncertain watercolors shimmered on the cold metal floor wavering beneath their feet with the motion of the train. They had followed Ishikawa Rakuto until he arrived at his apartment complex, a questionable building just short of disheveled. The ordinary appearance kept no secrets about his current life dependent on the government. When asked, he declined Gii's invitation to dinner with the awkward manner of a person unused to receiving such requests.

There they had parted ways before Gii treated his boyfriend to some fancy restaurant near the subway that would take them to the train running between the city and Shidou. Takumi kept the battered notebook folded close to his body, but restrained himself from opening the front cover. Those were words to be read in private, words Naoto had not entrusted to even his own parents. Given his brother's mental state, Takumi assumed that they were uncertain, perverted words in more ways than one. It would be an almost forbidden, dirty act to read them before normal peoples' eyes.

Or Takumi could be reading far too deeply into Ishikawa's warning. The young man had been institutionalized for a reason and spoke strangely about normal topics. Perhaps it was better to take his advice with a grain of salt. Besides, Takumi would be reading the journal with Gii the first chance they had, perhaps after a shower. There was no way he was going to reveal his brother's innermost feelings without someone there to anchor him. Gii would probably insist on him staying either way, now that they were far less inhibited about sleeping in Gii's room together.

Dinner had been kind of an awkward affair, nothing at all like this peaceful calm between the two as the train cut through the mountain to school. There had been so many troubles before this day arrived that neither boy had wanted to dredge those topics up; the events at the cemetery were out of the question. They had settled for discussing Ishikawa, the strange young man who had somehow managed to befriend Naoto. Besides his refusal to the offer of dinner, he had not spoken since they left the park.

Takumi could still hardly grasp the solid fact that that man, withdrawn in his emotions and driven only through a precious obligation to a dead friend, had wielded the malice necessary to kill someone. The details were uncertain coming from his mother, but the man had not denied his actions. He really had come close to murdering his little brother for whatever reason. Of course, he and Gii had not talked about such a morbid topic; they had not even touched upon it. His boyfriend did bring up the peculiarities in the young man's speech. He spoke as if he were a subject detached from his mental condition.

Besides his brother, neither of them had ever spoken with a mental patient. And outside of the bedroom, Takumi's brother had been the most normal teenager. It was hard to believe that a hospital could change a person's entire thought process and it was almost scary if he thought hard enough about it. Then again, he considered, his mother spoke in such insane manners that he supposed it could not be too far off. He didn't even want to _know_ what Ishikawa had been like prior to his time served in Tachikawa.

These thoughts encircled his mind well through the ride to Shidou and beyond as he and Gii greeted their friends in the dorms, and later as he was taking a shower. Still, the worst image and idea was that his brother had made friends in a place that was supposed to serve as his punishment. He had made a friend that, had he lived, would probably have remained a loyal friend all throughout their lifetime. Somehow, his brother's skill and charisma with people extended even to an insane asylum.

Takumi was wringing his dripping hair out when Gii wrapped firm arms around his bare torso and helped him slip on a loose night shirt. The bitterness on his tongue faded as they exchanged a few teasing words and collapsed on Gii's bed, the weight of the day well caught up to them. Even though he did not begrudge embracing Gii, his limbs were heavy and every movement a severe effort. If not for his raging curiosity over the notebook on the nightstand, his eyes would have shut already.

The two boys shared a glance with each other and stared at the thin, innocent object. It was Takumi who garnered the courage to drag it closer and finally lift the flimsy cover. Ishikawa had probably preserved it well, judging by the way he handled it as if it were an original copy of ancient text. The wear and tear was most likely a result of his brother's handling. Granted, the notebook was not of the best quality, probably a generic one the hospital had given him for therapeutic purposes.

"'_Sometimes, when words leave behind empty bodies purged of every truth and lie, the self becomes engulfed by a peaceful balance. This enlightenment is the reason I have ventured here, to the subconscious where the mind is healed. Opposition means the dark, and while the dark is not such a fearful thing, it carries loneliness on its back. This may well be my first and final penance, but as I have always (selfishly) done, I wish to touch that little piece of light.'_"

Takumi knew that his brother was inclined towards literature and religion, the very subjects he despised even before he entered the world of Japanese literature. He had no idea that his brother might write this way- in a manner that hurt his head to think about, with layers as vast as the dreaded pieces his teacher taught. This was a journal, not a novel. He sighed and dropped the book, leaving Gii's hand to support it. Maybe this wouldn't be a one night deal, if the writing continued on like this. He sincerely hoped it didn't.

"Your brother was poetic," Gii commented unnecessarily. Takumi cast him a resentful glare having nothing to do with the compliment of his sibling and everything to do with his most hated subject. His lover let a playful smile grace his lips before turning serious once more. "On another note, what was his idea of 'opposition'? Is he talking about in general or about a specific circumstance? I guess he means 'opposition of enlightenment', which is…talking about his feelings in a journal. Maybe; I'm not sure."

"Now you see why I hate Japanese literature…" Takumi muttered as he flipped through the contents of the notebook. His brother's handwriting was neat, not as neat as Akaike, but orderly and legible all the same. To his dismay, he had written his words very close together, though entire sections had been crossed out with black ink. Some blackened sections were struck through with a few neat, straight lines. Others were consumed by scribbles and harsh, bold blocks that broke the paper in certain places.

They read on for a bit, eventually learning from the first few pages that Naoto's writing did get easier to read as he relaxed into the flow. He touched upon the therapists who made him write the journal in the first place, but mainly vented about the hospital, describing the place as a 'glorified prison'. Takumi had no opinion on such things; he had never tried to imagine what life inside a mental hospital was like. Nothing really touched them and Naoto did not seem too insane, though Takumi knew better.

It was not until the rants were over that they caught a hint of his true discontent. It was not disguised by pretty words.

"'_They allow patients to go outside often, and encourage the behavior, because there is nowhere to run. The forest stretches on forever, disappearing into the mist of the mountaintop…_'" Here, Takumi noted, he went on to describe the scene from his window in great detail. "'_There is nowhere to escape and no one who would wish us back into their lives either. Some people here have voluntarily committed themselves and some were forced by their relatives or the police. Like my parents who cried and lamented over leaving me here, none of them have returned…_

"'_Though, given the choice, I am sure the reasonable side of me wouldn't return home even if they wanted me back. If returning means hurting him again and falling into that formless darkness where there is no distinction between what is right and wrong, I'd much prefer remaining forgotten with everyone else here. It is not so bad, even if our lives are tacked to a schedule and the days are quiet and monochromatic, filled with hours of staring at stark white walls and soundless clocks. Perhaps talking instead of remembering will pass the time…_

"'_I introduce myself the same way every session. It is blunt, to the point, the way every criminal offender here speaks of the crime they have gotten away with. It was a little embarrassing as an afterthought, speaking before all those people who were unaware of each others' reasons for being there. This group was much different from the other one…My partner's name is Ishikawa Rakuto, a boy one year older from Kyoto. He is strange and so very happy that it makes my chest ache. Maybe one day I will be like that too._

"'…_We share many things together, useless things I normally would not bother remembering. He had a cat named Tama, his older sister played softball…he drags his feet when he walks. It's nice and chases away the loneliness. Before now, that has never been such a gaping sorrow in life, so out of my control and painful to the point of insanity…'_"

The clock hands ticked off the minutes as the two continued. The dates indicated in the margins steadily accumulated into months until they stopped at one particular week in October. Before, the entries had been regular, written twice a week or so. They abruptly stopped for a few unnamed days during which many of the patients at the hospital fell ill. The entry before the gap had been short and to the point, much more impersonal than the rest. In it Naoto addressed the doctors' concern for his health, confirming Takumi's uncertainty over whether or not his brother had been hospitalized as a child.

The next entry almost an entire week later was written in a shaky, unconfident hand. Many lines had been struck through; words had been added here and there. The writing reflected his mood, almost too distracted to even outline the basic events as they occurred. When Gii pondered over it for awhile, he finally pieced together the entire story. Ishikawa had fallen ill and Naoto went to visit him as any good friend might do, despite concerns over his delicate health. They had talked in comfort for awhile, sitting together on the bed as they did in the past.

This Ishikawa was so hard to imagine compared to the painfully awkward one they met. He was amiable and wholeheartedly believed his siblings were simply busy. Someday they would return for him and he was content to wait- at least, that was what he appeared to be on the outside. Naoto described his friend in much better detail, noting the hidden nuances that were masked by happiness, but he stubbornly refused to ask the boy about it. What happened after this observation made Takumi's blood run cold.

Naoto's pen sank into the paper deep enough to leave indentations on the pages underneath as he bluntly, painstakingly wrote, "_**I was going to rape him**_". His brother probably assumed that no one would ever read the journals, so he did not spare the gory details his imagination had conjured. It was a perfect way to vent and rail upon his faults and guilt. There was an obvious sense of disgust in his tone as he revealed his heart's deepest desires in those few minutes of betrayal. Later, he would go on to admit that he'd felt similar sentiments towards Takumi. These ones were just more violent- and if possible, more painful.

Then the monsters came. For awhile Takumi and Gii were lost in the sketchy narrative. From an outside point of view it seemed as if he were falling even faster down that slope of insanity, his ramblings hardly making sense. Takumi was sure that whatever he "saw" was not real, but his imagination torturing him for all the horrible, horrible things he'd done. He even admitted to crying at night under the covers, from fright and sometimes for no reason at all. But a majority of the time he cried from an invisible pain, the torture of a guilty conscious plaguing him with the exact same acts he committed on others.

Therapy hardly helped emotions he refused to convey and the doctors treated him with mild drugs just so that he would calm down at night. Perhaps that was what created the vivid dreams he detailed on paper. Takumi was sure that if the doctors read even a page they would have done something drastic. Sometimes it made him a bit nauseous to read the words. The only thing Naoto hadn't attempted was suicide.

It was roughly around November when he wrote, "'_my heart is naturally weak and I am weak of heart. Any human being with courage would overcome the demons threatening to consume him. As weak and pitiful as it is, I do not wish to die, not on such terms. There must be penance in suffering, if one can overcome that storm. I do not deserve his forgiveness, but I so desperately ache for it. God punishes sinners. Bad people pay for their bad deeds. And only once you have lost something can you appreciate it.'_"

The clock read half past nine by the time Gii and Takumi finished the crazy ramblings and emerged into a more reliable narration. Ishikawa had been the one to resolve the conflict, which was apparent in Naoto's considerably happier writing. The monsters stopped visiting every waking moment of the day and Naoto returned to whatever partially stable mental state he retained before the incident. Of course, he was not without scars, and expressed his extreme reluctance to touch Ishikawa in any way for a long time. The holidays came and went, along with Ishikawa's birthday.

Skipping chunks of contented days, Gii came to a pause where the written words became ragged and fell out of the neat order Naoto usually maintained. It was late, they had school the next morning, and the day had drained their bodies, but Gii knew how important it was for Takumi to find that part Ishikawa had spoken about. Perhaps his older brother was not a cruel, heartless monster purely for the perverse satisfaction and enjoyment of the act. And perhaps the truth was worse than the illusion. With a reason, not an excuse, Naoto would become another victim and Gii _knew_ it might not be what Takumi needed right now.

Still, he doggedly pursued the day in which two boys had ruptured their hearts and torn out the contents for each other's eyes. For a reason unfathomable to him, under the strangest circumstances these two had become friends, and were closer than lovers. If he had time to read every character written in this notebook, he was sure that he could extract the exact proof. Theirs was a relationship beyond physical contact, something like how Gii and Takumi had been in the beginning, for completely different reasons of course. It was a place where they _couldn't_ get close on that level even if they had wanted to.

It had started as an almost normal day. Ishikawa had slept in Naoto's room, as he sometimes did, and another of his moods overtook him.

"'…_and he said it in a very flat, almost monotonous tone. I knew better; beyond that façade were demons writhing for freedom, a past that has nothing to do with me and that I am not privy to. I distinctly recall a tightening of my throat, thinking something like: _he's really going to tell me what happened, right now, and I have to offer more than a shoulder to cry on. _It frightened me, I think. Rakuto has PTSD; remembering is the reason why he's here. If he broke down, I don't know what I would have done._

"'_His parents were murdered. He and his siblings found the blood and called the police, but didn't see the bodies. Still, that was a lasting impression. He went crazy with anger at the unfairness of it all. No one found the killers; his sister wanted to move on and set up a new life as fast as possible. His little brother was so young that it was easier for him to block it out. 'If I had someone half as good as you and Inoue have been to me, maybe I wouldn't have done it,' he told me as I held him. _

"'_I almost killed him, Naoto. In my dreams I feel his hands around my throat just like how mine were on his, screaming at him to stop forgetting mom and dad. 'You're a horrible son for forgetting them! We have to go and find them and apologize!' At the time, I truly felt that we had to be reunited with our parents. I planned on asking my sister- nicely at first- and taking her life, too, before taking mine. She stopped me of course, and sent me here. She __**promised **__that she'd be back, but I think deep down I always knew she'd never return.'_

If he omitted the emotional tangents, Gii guessed that the whole conversation was a few paragraphs long. Naoto had of course felt obligated to contribute his share of secrets, perhaps for personal gain as much as it was for his aching friend. Gii squeezed Takumi against his side right before they plunged into the most important part. "I'm right here," he muttered. "You're not alone."

"'_Rakuto seemed surprised to discover that my share did not start with my brother. In fact, before that time I adored my little brother, though I didn't always pay him attention. When we were younger I was always sick, so I wasn't so concerned over him. No, the troubles started in fifth grade, I think. That was certainly the year I had deemed unimportant, the year I carefully painted over deep within my memory.__ If not for that nightmarish month in October, perhaps I would never have chipped off the first layer. Somehow, I had forgotten all about it, as if it were a dinner I ate one nameless night during one nameless month in the fifth grade._

"'_Rakuto already had a decent idea of my tragedy, just as I had assumed of his. My fifth grade homeroom teacher was a man named Sugimura, I told him as he held me in an identical manner to the way I held him. That year I was stressed and worried about entrance exams for junior high- unnecessarily so for a kid my age. There was no doubt about it; I __**was**__ going to do well no matter the consequences. I even skipped many of the sports I enjoyed that year; baseball was all I held onto._

"'_Sugimura was once a home tutor, so he offered to help me after school when I had no practice. Perhaps I could have passed without his help, but at the time I wanted to be absolutely sure of success. 'So you couldn't let your parents down,' Rakuto stated quietly, simply. The glistening tear tracks were absent from his face now. Yes, perhaps that was what drove my studies. They had done so much for me in my short life already._

"'_So I attended these tutoring sessions every week after school in homeroom. The second story windows looked out upon the forest. The activities in the fields were barely murmurs. Sugimura was always friendly. We trusted him a lot, I believe. 'And he betrayed that trust. He touched you, didn't he?' Yes, he betrayed me. He was always very encouraging, but one day I was kind of upset. I'm not quite sure why. It's still blurry in my memories- it's not like I kept them close to me all these years._

"'_He told me, 'your parents would be so upset if you did poorly, if they knew you weren't serious about exams at all. Don't you want to do well? Don't you want to be a good boy they can be proud of?' After all this time, I can remember his words well. Those types of things don't leave so easily. Needless to say, I begged and nearly cried over the whole ordeal. Hadn't I been doing well all this time? I was completely serious about exams, but if the teacher said no, it must be true._

"'_That day he closed the blinds so that the room was shadowy, but not very dark despite the turned off lights. Not that anyone would see except God. I spared him the gory details, but here I suppose it's acceptable enough. I don't want to forget it all again and suffer again to recover them. Sugimura had locked the door, cleared an area of the back of the classroom, and dragged our books and things over there. It was dim and I couldn't see my books so well. He told me it was okay and sat beside me, pretending to shuffle through papers for awhile, I imagine._

"'_He wrapped his arms around me, told me where I'd made my mistakes and how to fix them. Somehow time passed like this, a naïve me never questioning it when he went further than he normally did. Eventually he set aside the books and faced me. 'Education is an extremely important thing,' he said. 'You must never forget what I'm about to teach you. You'll see that I'm not just an old man spurting nonsense.' He wasn't very old, actually, but as students we of course saw adults as ancient._

"'_Now, I was accustomed towards people taking off my shirts for medical exams and such. It's always easier to hear the heart that way, but my homeroom teacher was not in charge of that. The nurses always did my physicals. I asked, but he ignored me. It was then that he became another person, I think. A scary and disturbing creature that was barely human sat before me. Needless to say, he took me for the first time then. It was extremely hard, painful sex. I had only a brief knowledge of the subject then._

"'_At the time and definitely in the months after that, I could not process what had happened to me- and continued to happen to me. It's only now that I can actually see what happened and realize that it __**had**__ happened to me at all. I cried; I could not remember ever being in such agonizing pain and confusion, not even in the hospital. Those days were heaven in comparison. I'd take heart failure over what was happening to me in a heartbeat. I could do nothing. We are all weak, helpless creature when it comes down to it, with zero power over so many events that transpire in life._

"'_He finished, leaving me embarrassed and in pain, hysterical almost to the point of hyperventilation. In those few moments I get the idea that Rakuto saw more of me than I could ever explain on paper. All of those cliché emotions- I felt them-and let him hurt me many times after that just because I was afraid of failure. No matter how much it killed me each time, no matter how mortified I was each time, I said nothing. Perhaps I was waiting for someone to notice, for someone to see the reluctance and caution, but that never happened._

"'_We fell asleep in the hazy aftermath of tears and the familiar comforts found in the arms of friends, a quiet peace unlike any other veiled in silvery sheets of light.'"_

Gii closed the worn notebook. They had read their fill for the night, their eyes stinging in pain and their bodies deeply fatigued. Naoto had written many more entries after that, having lived another year until his death. It wasn't something that could be read in a single night. At times the levels of disturbance forced Gii to pause and recollect his thoughts, and reconsider all the facts he knew about this man. He had never given mentally deranged minds much thought before this, and the influx was overwhelming.

Takumi trembled in his arms and Gii despaired in the knowledge that he was helpless to comfort him. There were just some things that were impossible for him to protect his lover from, some truths Takumi had to confront alone. That his brother had been a terrified and hurt child once, taken advantage of by a person he should have been able to trust, went beyond Gii's comprehension. Hayama Naoto had not chosen his genes or the trigger to his perverse violence. He had felt immensely guilty, so much so that he ended his life.

It took a lot of resolve and a deep sense of despair, a complete loss of hope, to do such a thing. Not even Ishikawa Rakuto could save him from that, no matter how much trust and devotion the young man had poured into their relationship.

"It's a reason, not an excuse," Gii whispered into Takumi's ear after a few deep minutes had passed. He gently ran his hand over his lover's shoulder. "It can't justify what he did to you. He even says it himself. He was still sick and _wrong_ to do that. I don't think I can ever forgive him, even after all that, even though I've never seen him. But now at least we know it wasn't out of pure cruelty."

"N-no, I knew that since last year. He died guilty. That's not it," Takumi muttered, brushing a sleeve over his eyes. His voice trembled slightly, but felt sad above all else, a deep sadness Gii was unable to touch. "It's just- how, _how_ could my parents have never noticed? He was hurting so much, just like how I felt, and they _loved_ him. If they did something, he wouldn't have…I guess…I just didn't really believe Ishikawa-san until I read it for myself."

Gii made a noise of agreement and slid the notebook on the nightstand, reaching over to turn off the light. Might as well sleep together for tonight, he figured. "It won't do any good to wonder why your parents did the things they did. After today, I think I can finally decide that they won't change their ways, not completely. Face it Takumi, and I'm not trying to be cruel here, but they lost both of their sons a long time ago. Naoto's dead and they never knew anything about his problems, and if I'm not mistaken they've lost you too."

He was tired beyond belief, but knew the importance this talk had on his boyfriend. For Gii the decision seemed a simple, very logical one. And he wanted to end this right now, no more stalling, no more doubts.

"The people who know you are not your parents, but your friends. We like you for who you are- me and Akaike and everyone else, even Misu," Gii said firmly. They eased their backs onto the soft bed and lay there in each others' embraces, breaths and words quiet in the still darkness. "Take it a step further and the only person who understood Naoto is Ishikawa, not your parents. I was kind of flipping through it when you spaced out."

Gii did not flush easily, but he was almost certain that his skin was warmer than usual. "They were intimate," he admitted. "Mostly it was on an emotional level, but they were physically intimate once. It was in the forest behind the hospital, funny enough. But, Ishikawa…_wanted_ it; your brother didn't force himself on him. I didn't read it all, of course. That's just not something you can really read and feel comfortable with…as if it's not meant for anyone else's eyes."

Takumi didn't respond for awhile, but Gii felt him start in surprise. When he did speak, his voice was riddled with disbelief. "T-they were…seriously, they did it together?" Gii nodded in the darkness, chin resting gently on Takumi's head.

"If it makes it any better, your brother didn't seem like he wanted it at first. I guess he was afraid of what he might do."

"That does not comfort me at _all_. I…I really did not want to know about my brother's sex life. I wouldn't want to know even if he _was_ normal," Takumi declared with some hint of humor. Gii imagined a small smile curving the tips of his mouth upwards and released a relieved, breathy laugh. He was probably far from okay, but they could definitely work on that. At least they had weathered the storm alright.

"_And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about_." (Haruki Murakami, _Kafka on the Shore_)

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><p>• We return to the main characters a little more in the next chapter. Thank you to everyone who's reviewed and everyone who has been so patient this month. It really makes all the difference.<p> 


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